


Bang Bang!: Guilty

by CrowKing



Series: Bang Bang! [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Corruption, F/M, Gangs vs Government, Modern AU, Murder, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Sequel, Smut, lots of blood, this is a sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: You are now a full-fledged member of the Red Kings. After your first successful mission, Domeric comes with troubling news: they're being watched and there's a mole among them. The Red Kings, Ramsay, and You now stand against a new enemy: Stannis Baratheon, a high ranking FBI member out to seek justice who may have his own dark secrets he's trying to hide.In this next part of the series, you will be tested, face old enemies, and encounter faces you'd thought you'd never see again. You thought you were safe, but the game has just begun.





	1. Neon Lights, Nausea, and Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE
> 
> (Betcha you thought i forgot about this huh?? Syke! I didn't) Firstly, thank you for your patience. Secondly, I'm really excited that i can share this with you guys. I want this fic to be a true sequel. *Slaps on Oliver Wood Quidditch Captain Hat* This sequel will be longer, better, and more bloodier than the first. I know many of you have been waiting for this sequel so I really don't want to disappoint.
> 
> If you have not read Bang Bang!, please close this out and go read that first. If you have, well then. Enjoy reading!
> 
> First chapter heavily inspired by the music video: Guilt by Nero ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1ATFedwjnk )

Neon lights blinded John. He never went out much less left his room, but here he was. Outside a strip club, in a small town, waiting for his friend. John wore a brand new anime shirt he just bought. His worn-in leather jacket covered most of it, but a female character’s boobs could be seen along with her wildly-inappropriate body shape.

John heard running from the parking lot, and looked up to see his friend. Well, John wouldn’t consider Cesar his friend. Cesar was dating John’s sister, and John usually saw him at family gatherings he was forced to go to. It wasn’t that Cesar was a bad guy; it was just John didn’t like people. 

Cesar’s sneakers got wet from the rain puddles in the lot. He brushed off some water and leaf from his shoe and smiled at John holding out his hand.

“Hey! You made it!” Cesar greeted.

“I did,” John said, not shaking his hand. Cesar smoothly retracted his and gestured towards the door.

“Should we go inside? Grab some drinks?” Cesar held the door open to The Glitter Factory, a recently new gentleman’s club in the small town of Athens, Iowa. The older generation of the town was clearly upset that this place opened to the public just a couple of years ago, but young and old men still made their way inside of here.

Inside, neon red and blue lights were everywhere. Pole stages had red seating around them. Two different bars had bartenders going back and forth catering to each customers that bothered them. Loud, bass-boosted music blared through the speakers. Dancers and waitress walked around in skimpy clothing, and John couldn’t keep focus.

He barely had any kind of social life. Most of his days were spent in front of a screen in his parent’s basement hacking away at websites for money. Recently he hacked a website in the deep web and had them exposed. John earned a lot of money for it, and he felt proud he brought the people to justice.

His eyes widened to see so many young women walking around in the shortest of shorts or highest of heels. A tightness in his pants grew. Cesar tapped his shoulder.

“I see some of my friends over there,” Cesar guided John through the club. A young blonde girl winked at him, and John flushed immediately. He sat down in a comfortable, red seat. A narrow black bar extended all around the white, luminescent stage. 

“Cesar! Good to see you!” one of his friends waved at him. Cesar nodded back, making himself comfortable next to John.  
“Hey, order anything you want, it’s on me,” Cesar nudged John. “The girls should be out soon.” He winked. Cesar turned and started to speak with another friend next to him. John watched the same blonde girl walk up to him. She smiled down at him.

“Hi there,” she greeted, a sultry smile on her lips. “You must be new here. What can I get for you?”

“Uh, well, I-I—

“How about a rum and coke? You seem like a rum and coke to me,” she touched his arm. Her fingers brushed against his leather jacket. “You should take this off. It’s a little warm inside don’t you think?”

She could be right; it was a little warm in here. John slid off his jacket. His anime girl showing off her body in full force. The blond girl’s brown eyes went to the center of his shirt.

“I like your shirt. It’s a good show,” she winked, still touching his arm. “I’ll be back with your drink sweetie. Need anything else?”

“Do you guys have food?” John kindly asked.

“Yes we do! I’ll get you a menu!” the blonde girl walked away, her ass going to and fro. Now, John really understood the phrase ‘hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go’. John started to feel more at home. Themed music started to play through the speakers, and a DJ started to speak.

“Good evening everyone! How’s everybody doing tonight? Welcome to the Glitter Factory. I’m DJ Chico, and these are our girls!” House music started to kick up, and everyone in the club was getting excited. Soon, all kinds of stripper girls started to walk on the stage. A black girl with a crown on her head walked in front of John, Cesar, and his friends and started to dance. Her hair was pink, and her heels had the ‘Barbie’ logo on them. 

She swayed her hips and smiled at Cesar’s friends. The same blonde girl from before put two drinks down in front of John. Confused, he looked up at her.

“Second’s on the house! We like newbies here!” she shouted over the music. John smiled and sipped on his rum and coke. Cesar tapped his elbow.

“She’s nice, right?” he said, trying to include him in the current conversation. Cesar’s friends watched for John’s reply.

“Yeah, she’s nice,” John agreed. Some of them nodded, approving. Other threw the stripper tips in fives and tens. 

“Hey, I wanna thank you for coming,” Cesar said. “I know this isn’t really your thing, but it means a lot to me, man.” He offered John a fist bump. John slowly bumped fists with him and kept watching Pynk Barbie. She lifted her legs in the air and started to twirl on the pole.

“I know my sister made you invite me,” John muttered.

“She didn’t make me do a damn thing, John,” Cesar laughed. “I’m marrying your sister in a month. I want to be part of the family. I want to be brothers.” John pulled away from him. 

“You’re not my brother,” he argued. 

“Well yeah, not literally, but I really want us to be friends. I think you’re a cool guy, John,” Cesar leaned forward. The diamond rosary hanging from his neck tilted forward. Light reflected off the cross. 

“You don’t think that,” John looked down at his bigger form. “Nobody thinks that.”

“Screw that! We do, right guys?” Cesar gestured towards his friends. Some of them nodded, one threw up a peace sign drunkenly. “See Victor over there? He’s into that Japanese shit like you are!”

“It’s not shit,” John narrowed his eyes, taking another sip of the rum and coke. Cesar held up his hands in surrender.

“That’s not what I meant. I just mean you guys could be friends too. You have common interests, you know?” Cesar said. Pynk Barbie left the stage and another dancer walked on, giving Pynk Barbie a wink and a wave. She started to walk around the pole in black heels. A black ‘X’ tattoo was on her hip.

John watched her like he watched most hentai porn, he couldn’t look away. Everything about her was ideal. The way her body curved. Her black outfit. How she moved on the pole. And her eyes. God, her eyes pierced his, and John felt like he was watching his dream girl dance in front of him. He opened his wallet and threw a fistful of fives at her. Cash fell and she got on her knees in front of him. She crawled towards John, and Cesar’s friends whooped.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked him.

“Yeah I do,” John smiled at her. She winked and continued to dance in front of everyone. John finished his first rum and coke while throwing another wad of money at her. 

“Yo, she’s good!” Cesar sat back. He stroke his small patch of hair on his chin. While Cesar admired the dancer, his friends offered her shots and said lewd things to her.

“Damn baby! I could show you a good time! Come over, here!” John frowned. This is why he didn’t go out. He knew he was better than most men his age. He treated women with respect. John cringed at the words and phrases Cesar’s friends kept saying to her. He should say something, but these were his future brother-in-law’s friends. Cesar really only wanted to have a good time. John shouldn’t ruin that.

The dancer crawled across the stage and a friend of Cesar’s slapped her ass. John couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?!” he yelled. John stood up, his stomach moved with him. “You don’t treat women like that!”

“We’re just having fun, John. It’s okay,” Cesar said, putting a hand on John’s chest. “It’s chill. Right, baby? We cool?” Cesar looked up to the dancer. She smiled and sat down in front of John. Her legs covered in fishnet tights.

“Of course, we’re cool,” she leaned forward to John’s ear. “A little blondie birdie told me it’s your first time here. Want a private show?” Her hand brushed against John’s arm. His face flushed.

“I-I don’t know,” John responded, not showing his face to her. He couldn’t even believe she was this close to him.

“Come on,” the dancer smiled. “It’s on the house. We like our newbies. Just follow me, yeah?” The dancer offered her hand. John took it and followed her. He looked back to see another dancer take the stage while Cesar gave him a thumbs up. Cesar mouthed out ‘Go have fun’ to him. 

The strip club was bigger than he originally thought. The dancer took him behind a red curtain where a red light illuminated a staircase down to a hallway. She guided him to one of the rooms and closed the door behind them. The same, brown-eyed blondie waited in a large couch. Her legs crossed and a smirk on her lips.

“There you are,” she smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you. Aw, you didn’t drink my rum and coke?” She pouted. John gulped it all down quickly, not wanting to hurt her feelings. The back of his throat burned. 

“What’s your name?” his dream dancer asked. She stepped up to the pole again and started to slowly dance.

“It’s John. John Strobel,” he sat down on the couch. This one felt a lot softer than the ones upstairs. The blondie put on slow house music, and she sat next to John. Her hand rubbed his chest. 

“How are you feeling, John?” the blondie asked him. Her round, doe eyes looked into his. She was being so nice.

“I’m feeling,” John felt his stomach turn, but ignored the feeling. “Good! I’m feeling good. What’s your name?”  
“Charlotte,” she said sweetly. “You can call me Charlie if you want.”

The house music started to speed up as the dance started to lift herself and spin herself on the pole. John’s stomach gurgled again. It turned, making John feel as if he had to throw up, but he was in a private strip club room with two lovely girls. There’s no way he was going to ruin this. Not now. 

The dancer held her body up by her hands on the pole. Her legs stretched out. She slowly slid down, landing in a splits form. John noticed how loud the music was. It hurt his ears, and when did he start sweating? Beads of it went down his nose. The dancer crawled towards his knees.

“How do you feel now, John?” her charming smile made John want to kiss her, but he was bit busy holding the bile in. Her fingers tapped on his knees. His pants felt tight again, and the fact that his dream dancer kept brushing against his thighs wasn’t helping the case. 

“I feel good,” he said.

“You do?” she said. “You don’t feel sick?”

“No I don’t feel—who’s that?” and in that same moment two bullets went into John’s head and out from the back. John’s head titled back, blood dripping from his forehead. At least he didn’t have to worry about his tight pants any longer.

The dream dancer turned around, covering her ears. “What the fuck, Ramsay?”

Ramsay Bolton lowered his pistol and shrugged. “I was getting jealous, and I didn’t like your method. It was taking too long, and it was stupid.”

“It was fine, Ramsay,” Charlotte pulled off the blonde hair and shook out her natural brown hair. “You just wanted to kill him because you’re impatient and jealous.” 

“I don’t like watching my own girlfriend flirt with other guys,” Ramsay said point blank. He looked at you and towards the ‘X’ tattoo on your hip. “Besides, you belong to me now.”

“I belong to the Red Kings, not you,” you reminded him with sass. Ramsay walked over to you, looking you up and down. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Let me remind you whose name you moan out at night.”

“And may I remind you that I am the captain of this mission before you came and ruined it,” you walked past him and towards the back exit. “Your father will be disappointed to hear about that.”

Ramsay chuckled, following you. “You’re going to tell on me? Oh no! I’m so grounded.” Ramsay rolled his eyes and climbed into the SUV waiting outside. 

“All Y/N is saying is that we had this,” Charlotte backed you up.  
“Did you get the USB?” you asked her. Charlotte pulled John’s keys. Attached to the unusually large keychain was a USB labeled ‘Plague’. 

“Done and done,” Charlotte handed over the USB to you. “Mission complete.” 

“Ramsay, report to your father,” you ordered.

“Why me?” Ramsay leaned back into the passenger seat. 

“Because I said so or else,” you glared at Ramsay. He nodded and started typing away to Roose, back at headquarters. Ben Bones started to drive the SUV onto the highway, laughing.

“Dude, you’re so whipped.”

“I’m sorry, do you get your dick sucked every night?” Ramsay asked Ben stood silent. “Didn’t think so. Besides, she’s scary when she threatens ‘or else’.”

“What’s ‘or else’?” Ben asked. Ramsay looked him dead in the eye.

“You don’t want to know. You think you do, but you don’t. You really don’t,” Ramsay continued to type away to Roose Bolton, his father and head leader of the assassination group, the Red Kings. The road trip back to headquarters took two days, but it was well worth it. 

The Red Kings Headquarters was located in the one place everyone had been after for the last couple of months. With the mysterious deaths of Rickon and Brandon Stark, the disappearance of Arya Stark, and Sansa Stark on the run, Winterfell Estate was up for grabs. Roose, a close confidant of Ned Stark brought it upon himself to take care of the estate while things settle with the Stark family.

“The Stark family has been through enough,” Roose quoted to a magazine. “The public and the press needs to let go of these scandalous stories. In the meantime, we should focus on the future. Tommen Lannister is proving to be an amazing mayor for someone his age. I look forward to see his ideas and influence come into play.”

While most of America focused on this new mayor of New York, Roose kept the Winterfell estate on Cersei’s orders. When you first arrived, you thought you had stepped onto the biggest piece of property in your entire life. The main house was where most business was dealt with and where you slept. 

You remembered Ramsay carrying you inside and laying down in bed. You remembered med students fussing over you. What you didn’t realize is that you slept for over 15 hours before finally waking up and realizing what you left behind. 

Ramsay and you entered Roose’s office, both of you wearing matching black uniforms. Roose turned and saw both of you.

“Mhm, of course,” Roose nodded while holding his phone. “Thank you.” He hung up his phone and sat at his desk. 

“Mr. Bolton, you will find all details and reports in alignment with what you need in here,” you handed over a file folder. “This is the USB in question. We had it looked over and it does contain the virus that took down the website.” Roose smiled at you, and looked to Ramsay.

“I heard he was a handful,” Roose said.

“He was, but the target was taken out and removed either way,” you reported, hands behind your back. “Later, spies reported that his death was ruled as murder by a gang led by his brother-in-law, Cesar Flores.” 

“Excellent, our involvement is erased then,” Roose smiled. “See, this is what efficiency looks like. Take note, Ramsay.” Ramsay rolled his eyes. 

“I put her through the most rigorous training. Teach her everything I know, and she’s still better than me?” 

“She can be,” Roose winked. “Congrats on the success of your first-led mission, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bolton.”

“Call me Roose,” he told you. “You’re in a relationship with my son. Call me Roose.”

“Thank you, Roose,” you smiled and turned to leave the office. Ramsay followed you and pinched your behind. “Hey!”

“What are we doing for lunch?” he asked. “I was thinking burgers. Big, juicy burgers. And fries. Hot French fries with the crinkles.” You took his hand and leaned into him. 

“You’re always so hungry,” you said. 

“I like food. I like to eat, don’t you?” Ramsay chuckled. He peered out the window. “Domeric’s here.”

“Oh maybe we can invite him with us?” you hopped. Ramsay shook his head.

“No, no. He’s back early. This isn’t good,” Ramsay started to go outside towards his brother. Domeric ran his hand through his hair, bits of white could be seen. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not good, I’ll tell you that,” Domeric sighed. 

“What do you mean?” Ramsay asked. “How bad is it?”

“We’re being watched. Not by our enemies. By the government,” Domeric went inside. Ramsay and you followed in pursuit. 

Somewhere along a cul-de-sac sat an older father, sipping away on his afternoon decaf coffee. The sun was starting to set, and everything seemed to be calm. The smell of a chicken pot roast wafted through the den. Birds flew away from the birdbath in the front yard. A phone started to ring and the older father answered it.

“Yes?” he said.

“They’re onto us. They found out we bugged the estate and that there’s a mole among them,” said the man on the other line. The older father smiled and chuckled.

“Aha, the game begins,” he said in a dry voice, no excitement at all. Almost as if he hated games. “Monday morning, I want a full report on my desk.”

“Yes, Mr. Baratheon,” the other line hung up.

“Stannis! Dinner is ready!” his wife called out to him. Stannis Baratheon sighed, got up from his chair, and made his way towards the dining room to have dinner with his family where he would grunt and unenthusiacally would entertain and pretend to listen to his wife.

No, Stannis Baratheon did not like games at all.


	2. No Talk, Just Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy
> 
> Enjoy the chapter everyone!!

_“They’re onto us. They found out we bugged the estate and that there’s a mole among them,” said the man on the other line. The older father smiled and chuckled._

_“Aha, the game begins,” he said in a dry voice, no excitement at all. Almost as if he hated games. “Monday morning, I want a full report on my desk.”_

_“Yes, Mr. Baratheon,” the other line hung up._

_“Stannis! Dinner is ready!” his wife called out to him. Stannis Baratheon sighed, got up from his chair, and made his way towards the dining room to have dinner with his family where he would grunt and unenthusiacally would entertain and pretend to listen to his wife._

_No, Stannis Baratheon did not like games at all._

The search began like rats swarming across the headquarters in a desperate rush to find anything and everything. Rookie operatives ripping through their personal items and tearing apart their rooms. Experienced assassins doing the same, wondering how the hell headquarters was bugged.

Ramsay and you entered your bedroom quietly despite the chaos. Ramsay put his arm in front of you before you stepped foot into the room. He put a single finger on his lips, and you nodded understanding what he meant.

After missions and training, you escaped to your room with Ramsay. It had been where you slept with him, fucked him, and many other things. Both of you settled into a happy balance here. He made you feel safe here away from Petyr and anyone else who could be after you. 

You began to looking low on the ground, moving blankets and clothes slowly. You looked along the walls and outlets to see any sign of a bug or recording device. You heard a scrambling from behind you. Ramsay reached into a lighting fixture to grab one recording device. You opened your mouth only for Ramsay to shush you again.

His hands and fingers formed words quicker than you could catch them.

No. Talk. Just. Look.

Those were the only words you caught with Ramsay’s quick sign language. He had a point. Ramsay knew his position with the Red Kings. He was well aware of the sensitive information he had to protect. He was also aware of who he had to protect. He looked at you searching among your belongings and wondered if he did the right thing, letting you join the Red Kings.

By your bed, there was another bug placed just behind the headboard of the bed. You grabbed it and crushed it in your hand.

“That should be all of them,” Ramsay said. “These are more expensive than you think. I expect everyone else will just find one among them.”

“How did we get bugged?” you asked. “How is that possible?”

“I have a theory,” Ramsay said, storming out of the room. Other operatives still scrambled around. Both of you headed straight towards Roose’s private bedroom. 

“Care to share?” 

“Domeric said we have a mole among us,” Ramsay went on. “Either the mole is an experienced Red King and placed them here or they were here before we moved here.”  
“Who do you think the mole is?”

“Someone asking for a death wish.”

“So none of the bastards?” both of you sharply turned down a hallway on the third floor of the estate.

“Yellow Dick, perhaps, but only out of fear,” Ramsay snarled. “He wouldn’t do a damn thing on his own. Someone threatened him.”

“What about someone outside the Red Kings?”

“Like my stepmother? Walda is grateful to Roose. He’s never treated her wrongly, but she recognizes how lucky she really is. She wouldn’t risk it. Not when she’s surrounded by Domeric and I.” Ramsay and you entered into the biggest bedroom of the estate. The ceilings were lower than expected, but the room had its own living room and luxury bathroom. Roose turned to see both of you, crushed devices in hand.

“You found two of them?” Roose turned to Domeric. “Make that seven for us.”

“You had seven?” Ramsay said.

“Not exactly. I had two, just like you,” Domeric explained. “One by our bed and the other hidden by Charlotte’s mirror. Roose had three.”

“Seven,” you added. “Seven devices hidden for the family alone.” Roose locked his private bedroom doors. He fingers pulled a combination of three books. Something inside unlocked and revealed a private room behind the bookcase. The room itself wasn’t much. In fact, the bare minimum was inside. A couch or two with outlets. 

Roose plugged in a 4 number combination to turn on a security system throughout the estate. The entire wall was filled with footage of different areas of Winterfell. You could see operatives finding bugs and crushing them in their hands. Others found nothing, but quickly went onto their laptops and cellular devices to erase any encrypted data. 

“What exactly happened on that mission, Domeric?” Roose turned to him, the footage playing silently behind him. Domeric shortly left after you began your training with Charlotte and Ramsay. You wished you got spend time with him before he left, but he promised to teach you leadership skills when he got back.

“I did as instructed, father,” Domeric reported. “At first, I listened into the meetings between politicians and other high security officials. Killed some of them when I didn’t get the information I wanted. It seems Cersei has her hands across the nation. Tommen may be the new mayor of New York, but Cersei’s still pulling the strings. It seems fruitless to see if they’re going to betray us or not.

“That is, until I heard Stannis’ name thrown around which I found odd. The last time anyone heard his name was—

“Before Ned Stark was assassinated,” Roose finished. “Continue.”

Domeric sat next to Charlotte and held her hand. “A son of a high-ranking individual in the government landed an internship with Stannis. He requested a meeting with me. We made a deal. He would give me information, and I would kill off whoever he wanted no questions. After Ned’s death, Stannis suffered a great failure in investigating the Lannisters.”

“The Blackwater Files,” Roose turned to you. “Stannis tried to prove Cersei’s children were born of incest.”

“I remember,” you told him. “I had clients who requested mostly blonde girls at the time. Some men went even far as calling me their little sister. It was a trend.” Ramsay’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head in disgust.

“Stannis took a leave of absence after that. When he came back, he started a project to ‘clean the nation’ and to ‘purify it and wash it of the underbelly’,” Domeric said.

“He’s aware of the underbelly?” Roose said. You turned to Ramsay who had more quiet than usual. He listened intently. “So what happened after that?”

Domeric sighed. “That was the harder part. I had Roose’s office bugged, and I thought I was at least a couple steps ahead of him. He was ready for me. He was more than ready for me. Apparently, he knew of this partnership I had with his intern. During a meeting with him, Roose let out that he bugged Winterfell for ‘the justice of Ned Stark’. He knew we were after it,a nd he knew what our allies and enemies were doing. He knows the underbelly intimately, and then he killed him.”

“Killed who?”

“The intern.”

Roose turned to his family and sighed. “We need to make changes. I have to contact people.”

“What do you mean we have to make changes?” Ramsay finally spoke. “We have the allies. We can take down Roose’s agenda.”

“Ramsay, it’s not that simple,” Roose told him.

“Yes it is,” Ramsay stood up and pointed to the screen. “Look at how much manpower we have. We have nothing to fear of these people. Our government is being led by cowards and weak men.”

“We lost against Petyr,” Roose turned to you. “I don’t think rushing into things is going to help our issue.” Ramsay heard the underlining message and sat down. His hand found yours and his fingers curled into yours. You heard him loud and clear. Ramsay didn’t want to lose you like that again. Both of you had enough.

“What do you suggest then?” Domeric asked.

“We evacuate Winterfell except for non-King members,” Roose explained. “This happened to my grandfather before. We need to keep up appearances as rich, society members, and we need to put our lives and agendas as Red kings on the backburner.”

“So we give in to them? To Stannis?” Ramsay pointed out.

“No, we just cool off for a while. Think of this as vacation from your job,” Roose said.

“But I like my job,” Ramsay said. 

“My word is final. This is what we’re doing,” Roose said. Ramsay groaned and looked at his older brother. You watched the brothers share the same look. A vacation was the last thing on each of their minds, but a father’s word was final. Hiding away from the authorities and keeping a low profile seemed smarter than most options.

You watched the first floor as several operatives, hackers, and assassins carry their belongings out the door and into cars or motorcycles. One group of hackers packed a tricked-out school bus and gleefully prepared for a long road trip across America. You leaned against the banniser when a friend joined you.

“So where are you going?” you asked. “Back to the warehouse commune in Nevada?”

“No, somewhere new,” Charlotte smiled. “Domeric wants to take a real vacation. We’re going to Europe for a while. He says it would good for him to enjoy a romantic getaway just the two of us. He’s been gone for a while.”

“That sounds wonderful!” you told her. “Do you think he’ll—you know…

“Pop the question?” Charlotte whispered to you. She nodded. You almost squealed for her as she shushed you. “I’m not sure, but he really wants to go to Juliet’s home in Verona, Italy.”

“As in Romeo and Juliet? The play?”

“Yes,” Charlotte sighed. “It’s my favorite play. In high school, I played her, you know? William Patterson was my first kiss.”

“That sounds so sweet.”

“So where are you off to?”  
“I’m not sure,” you kept watching assassins leave with only a backpack filled with items or maybe even two bags that fit inside their trunks. “Ramsay told me it was surprise.”

“Oh?”

“No, not that kind of ’oh’. We haven’t even talked about that yet,” you said. “I don’t know if Ramsay even wants to get married.” Charlotte hummed.

“He was never much about the idea of marriage. Seeing as his own mother was pushed aside. Ramsay’s awful relationship with Walda never helped either. However, I have seen Ramsay with other girls,” Charlotte squeezed your shoulder. “He’s much different with you. You have no idea.”

“Charlotte!” Domeric called out. “Let’s go!”

“That’s my ride,” Charlotte hugged you goodbye and left with Domeric.

“Y/N!” Domeric called out to you. “We’ll do breakfast when we come back, yeah?” You nodded and waved them off. Winterfell was almost empty of Red King members when Ramsay came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“You ready?” he kissed your neck. You hummed. 

“As ready as I can be. Do you think this all so dramatic?” you asked him as both of you held hands while walking outside towards Ramsay’s favorite charger. 

“Yes,” he said sharply. “My father’s getting older which means he’s getting softer. Domeric and I know we have the manpower and the allies to take down Stannis, but apparently we have to hide.”

“You don’t like this idea?”

“I hate this idea,” Ramsay closed your door and went around to the other side. He started the vehicle. The engine roared, ready to hit top speed on the highway. Ramsay drove for about three and half to four hours north until you reached the final destination. 

“A forest?” you looked at the entrance of it. Thick trees surrounded the area. The afternoon sun broke through the woods. Grass, small plants, and even a small rodent or two scattered away from the roads. The entrance sign read: ‘Redwood’ and the second word was almost completely gone.

“Redwood?”

“Redwood Castle,” Ramsay quickly finished.

“We’re going to live in a castle?” you said excitedly. Ramsay patted your knee and shook his head.

“No, not exactly,” Ramsay slowly drove through the forest road. Trees became thicker and thicker on each side of you the deeper you went in. “Once upon a time, there was a castle here. It belonged to my father’s family. The Boltons weren’t known as the Red Kings at the time. Just as a rich family with rich tastes. However, when the Red Kings were first discovered, the castle was burnt down by enemies.

My father’s grandparents and their friends rebuilt the area. If my father wants me to hide, I’ll hide with my ancestors where I belong. Besides, Ben looked after my place here when I trained you.”

“I do remember you saying you had multiple homes,” you reminisced. Ramsay’s whispers in your ear and taking you away from the Birdcage were not lost on you. You remembered how long he stayed in New York for you. And then how you stayed in Domeric’s apartment in Chicago. This place was Ramsay’s, no one else’s. 

Ramsay pulled up on the driveway of a large home in the middle of the woods. Leaves were all over the front part of the home. The exterior looked made of wood and stone. Large windows gave you a peek inside. You could a large fireplace with a beautiful living room set. In other windows, you caught sight of a large kitchen complete with a dining room with a wooden table long enough to hold Thanksgiving for Ramsay’s entire family comfortably.

Ramsay opened the door for you to step inside. Ramsay hadn’t been here in a while. Dust covered certain area like shelves and cervices, but it looked cleaner and better than you expected. You took off your shoes and stepped onto the hardwood floor. It looked newer than other parts of the home.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I do,” you smiled. “It’s beautiful here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What?” you reacted.

“You have that face. What’s wrong?” Ramsay took off his shoes.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just wondering. There’s newer parts here.” Ramsay nodded. He stepped into the living room with you.

“This was my grandfather’s house. He took care of it. He raised his family here. It’s mine now. I renovated older parts.”

“So this is really your home?” you looked around to see vaulted ceilings and through the large windows to catch a view of the woods around you. 

“You don’t believe it, do you?” Ramsay chuckled. “Not my style?” You nodded.

“Yes, it’s not a dungeon or a basement or—

“Dark,” Ramsay finished, hands in his pockets. “I wanted to be away from everything. Away from everyone. Now that you’re here, we can finally be alone. Just you and me. What do you think?” You hugged Ramsay and held him close.

“I like that idea,” you nuzzled into his neck. Ramsay kissed the top of your head and let go.

“I do have a real surprise for you,” Ramsay left the living room and ran up the stairs to the second floor. You heard walking, some banging around, and a door closing. You heard him call out. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes! Should I close my eyes?” you teased.

“No, I want to see your face when you see them.”

“Them?” you said to yourself. Ramsay walked down the stairs and you understood what he meant. He carried two pitbull pups in each hand. Each of them delighted to see you. The eyes were wide and their tails wagged back and forth. Ramsay put them down as they ran to you and began licking your palms.

“Ramsay! Are they for me?” you asked him with glee as one of the pits happily climbed onto your lap.

“Yes, one boy and one girl. They’re siblings from the same litter,” Ramsay bent down and scratched the boy’s ears. “Surprise!”

“I love them!” you smiled as you cuddled the girl close to you. Her wet nose tickled your cheek. Maybe hiding away from the government wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally taking any and all name suggestions for the pups.


	3. The Narrow-minded Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the next chapter!! Let me know what you think.  
> Music: Grace for Sale – Terrance Zdunich [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQdIJtuRrGU ]

_Ramsay walked down the stairs and you understood what he meant. He carried two pitbull pups in each hand. Each of them delighted to see you. The eyes were wide and their tails wagged back and forth. Ramsay put them down as they ran to you and began licking your palms._

_“Ramsay! Are they for me?” you asked him with glee as one of the pits happily climbed onto your lap._

_“Yes, one boy and one girl. They’re siblings from the same litter,” Ramsay bent down and scratched the boy’s ears. “Surprise!”_

_“I love them!” you smiled as you cuddled the girl close to you. Her wet nose tickled your cheek. Maybe hiding away from the government wouldn’t be so bad after all._

Stannis Baratheon had lived in the shadow of his brother, Robert, his entire life. At times, he felt proud of his older brother rising so high in the world. Stannis only thought of how bright the family legacy was. Robert had drive, aggression, and a charm that would land Robert in trouble. 

Too much trouble.

Stannis sat at his older brother’s funeral. He shed no tears like his wife had. Stannis only sat there while others spoke of fond and thoughtful memories. He watched Cersei stood before everyone, crying her eyes out, while she re-told their love story for everyone—including the media—to hear. His nose wrinkled in disgust. He knew better than anyone that Cersei never loved Robert.

He watched one by one as Robert’s children placed flowers and spoke soft words over his casket. Each of their blonde heads decorated in their family sigil bothered Stannis. He had received contact from Ned Stark just a week earlier. Perhaps Ned Stark was right. Not a single dark hair on their heads. Maybe these were not Robert’s children after all.

Of course Stannis knew that both of his brothers led sinful lives. Renly led a particularly sinful and lustful life. He went out most nights, enjoying his wealth and status of his family. He also had a male lover. The words ‘homosexual’ had been thrown around before and it made Stannis sick to his stomach. To go against God and what was natural had been a betrayal to him and the rest of the family.

However, Robert was just the same. Robert’s political career had been successful in all ways but one. Robert’s friends and family always thought he would be president one day, but he never quite made it. His terrible reputation of gluttony and desire had ruined any chance of his career moving forward. Stannis remembers the scandals of women claiming their children were his. 

“Oh let them,” Robert waved it all off. “A lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Right?” He laughed and nudged at Cersei who looked at him with disgust.

“He’s right,” Renly agreed. His tailor-made suit was cleaner than his brother’s. His moved around the whisky in the tumbler. “These women only want a piece of the pie. They only want money.” Stannis watched his brother, Renly, stare at a younger man for much longer than what was allowed.

Stannis knew better, but he kept silent. 

Sadly, Stannis proved himself right. He watched people line up in the church and gave their sincerest apologies to Cersei and her children. The opinions of sheep could be louder than the lion’s roar.   
After Robert’s funeral, Stannis found himself in a shady neighborhood bar far from his luxurious home. He pulled up the collar of his jacket, hoping no one would recognize him. He sat down at a booth with a friend.

“You’re on the run I heard?” he posed a question.

“Sort of,” Ned Stark answered. “The police are still investigating Robert’s death. They believe I have something to do with it. I was the last person to see him alive.”

“Just because you’re the last person to see him alive doesn’t mean you did it,” Stannis expressed his opinion. “You’re a good man, Stark.”

“I only do what’s right,” Ned said. “That doesn’t make me a good man.”

“What can I help you with?” Stannis had been curious. When Ned Stark had first told him that they needed to meet in secret, Stannis became nervous. He never once believed that Ned Stark was responsible for his brother’s death, but Ned knew something.

“Jon Arryn, do you remember him?’ Ned began. Stannis nodded. “He had suspicions, and now I confirmed them. Joffery, Myrcella, Tommen. They are not Robert’s children. None of them are.”

“How do you know?” Stannis said in shock. 

“Jon Arryn had collected DNA from all three of them. He sent it away to have it tested. I got a hold of the results and Robert is not the father,” Ned whispered in a low voice. “His wife, my sister-in-law, had reason to believe she was being chased for a reason. Now, the Lannisters are coming after me.”

“Do you need a place to hide?” Stannis offered. 

“No,” Ned shook his head. “Thank you for your generosity, but no. I am not afraid of lions. I need something else. Your recent promotion in the FBI could help us. Cersei and her family plan to put Joffery in power. Where he can change and do what he likes and it will provide more power and wealth to the Lannisters. They would be able to abuse that power in any way they want to.”

“I understand,” Stannis nodded, realizing how grave it would be if his nephew ever held a position of power. “What do you need me to do? Open an investigation against them?”

“Anything to stop Joffery from holding a position in office,” Ned explained. “If he gets the votes to become mayor in New York City, it’s over. The Lannisters will be protected and they can do anything they want. They could ruin one of the greatest cities in America. The people are at risk.”

Stannis did the best he could in his position. They were channels he had to go through, paperwork that needed to be finished. But it was too late. An assistant laid down the newspaper for him in the morning.

NED STARK FOUND DEAD

It hit him much harder than he expected. Stannis felt his heart sink in his stomach. He watched his daughters mourn over his grave. He had heard of Arya’s disappearance shortly after. He was scared for Sansa’s safety. This was his fault. He didn’t act quickly enough.

Stannis slipped into a deep depression like stones falling into the bottom of the ocean. It weighed heavier and heavier each day. Stannis would never take it out on his wife or daughter. He was a loyal, family man. However, liquor bottles started to pile up in the garbage more than usual. He stopped attending church with his family. What was the point of believing in a God that allowed awful things like this to happen?

“How much have you drank?” Davos said to him. Stannis only grunted an answer. The bottle in his hand was running low. Davos shook his head. “You need to stop this. This isn’t you. What happened to Robert and Ned is not your fault.”

Davos was right. What happened wasn’t his fault, but he still felt responsible. 

“You’re unfit to work,” Davos sighed. “HR is forcing my hand on this. They want me to take over while you heal. Everyone wants you to find help. By god, you need help.”

Stannis Baratheon wasn’t the type of man to ask for help. He wasn’t the type of man to plead and beg, but he found himself sitting in a room with a therapist across from him. He felt agitated. The withdrawal of alcohol finally hit him. The blinds were drawn, the light was dim, and even though the room provided a safe and open space mentally, Stannis felt no relief.

“Tell me about your family,” she said.

“What about them?” he asked, irritated.

“Your older brother passed recently, how did you feel about that?”

“I felt nothing,” Stannis admitted. It felt harsh to say, but it was true. “I knew his sins would catch up to him. He dug his own grave.”

“What about your daughter? Tell me about her.” Truthfully, Stannis loved Shireen. He wanted nothing more but be a good father to children. He wanted to pass on his own morals and values to his own children. He wanted to raise good people.

“Shireen is kind,” was all he could manage to say. After spending most of his life focused on nothing but his career, Stannis knew next to nothing about the daughter he claimed to love. 

“Your wife?”

Stannis had truly loved his wife. But after years of disappointment, spending nights at work, drinking himself into a depression, he believed his marriage was only for show. They had been partners only in name. Stannis didn’t believe in divorce. He married in the eyes of God, and he intended to keep it that way.

At the end of session, the therapist made an appointment for the following week around the same time. She handed him a card to call in case there was a problem. Red letters stood out against the white background. 

“Melissa?”

“Melissandre,” she repeated. “Melissa was a school nickname.” Her long red hair complimented her white blouse. A cross necklace sat just on top of her cleavage. Stannis stared at it for longer than he would like to admit. 

“I look forward to seeing you next week,” he nodded and went off. Things would get better. He would change. He would be a better person. Stannis planned to be a better father, a better husband, and a better friend. 

Until the Red Wedding happened. 

Once again, Stannis watched the chaos unfold before him. He looked over Catelyn’s body before any other CSI agent could touch her. He saw the large opening at her neck. Blood had pooled where she laid. Her red hair stuck to her face and the ground. Her eyes were half open, looking to the wall. One hand she held a rosary wrapped around her hand. The other hand she held a bloodied knife. She looked more like a martyred saint than a dead mother.

“They did the counting,” Davos said, walking up to him. “Over thirty people had died here. Still more people gravely injured in the hospital.” Davos shoved his hand sin his pockets and sighed. 

“She was a good woman, you know,” Stannis said, still looking over Catelyn. “An exceptional mother. A religious and loving person.”

“Shame,” Davos sighed matching Stannis’ frown. 

“Any leads to what happened or who did this?”

“A couple. Some leading to the Lannisters, of course, but no hard evidence,” Davos walked away from Catelyn’s body as photographers started to come in and take pictures of the massacre. “We will have to control the media. There’s a lot here that normal people can’t find out.”

Stannis nodded and looked over more of the dead that laid across the reception area. His eyes caught hold of many friends of the Tullys, Starks, and Freys. 

“This is the underbelly at work,” Stannis said after several moments of silence. Confused, Davos looked over to him.

“The underbelly?” 

“Yes,” Stannis answered. “It is a slang term, but it works. The underbelly is the mafias, the crime gangs, the drug cartels, and the filth of this country that is hidden from the good citizen’s eye. They lie, steal, and kill without anyone seeing. They are close to power. They have wealth. They are not the poor or the homeless. They are your rich friends, your senators, your artists, and they hide it well.”

“Are you saying someone or a group of people did this? Someone planned to kill off this many people? Kill off Catelyn and Robb Stark?”

“Yes and more,” Stannis exited the reception hall and returned outside to the blaring sun overhead. “The Starks are a good family, but they were deep in something that they couldn’t handle.” Davos had hard time keeping up with Stannis’ quick pace. 

“The Starks knew something? What? Were they involved with drugs?” Davos asked, trying to get as much information as he could.

“They knew about Cersei and her children. They were going against them. History is a good teacher, Davos. No one survives going against the Lannisters,” Stannis got into his car and drove off. He would catch them now. The Lannisters and their empire would fall, and he would br crowned a hero for it all. 

From another building, Roose Bolton watched Stannis leave. He looked over the FBI agents and large police force surrounding and blocking off the area. Media and news trucks started to show up and set up space to report on the devastating event. 

Roose dialed a number on a burner phone. He waited a few moments before he heard a hello.

“They’re unto us,” he said. “You told me you would cover this up.”

“I will,” the voice answered back. “The news and media need to report something. Soon, I will be able to feed them the story I have planned. Sit back, relax. Your name will never be mentioned.”

“And the payment?”

“Tonight. Be patient. You’ve done a good job, Roose. Spend it however you wish.”

“And Winterfell?”

“Will be yours soon. You will have my support to get what you want. Our alliance is strong and untouchable. Let this wash over and we can work together to secure this country.” Roose hung up the burner phone and laid it on the ground. He shot it twice with a shotgun and left the area. He did have many plans for the millions he would earn for the massacre, but first he and the rest of his men would celebrate.

“Petyr,” Roose smiled, speaking on his personal phone. “I expect everything will be ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” his slimy voice confirmed. “My pretty birds are very excited to meet red kings.”


	4. New Alibi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I won't be updating this next week because I'll be gone. I'm off to see and spend private time with my family :) I know this guy is really short. I don't think I've found my footing with this part of the series yet and it kinda bothers me. I will be spending a good part of my "vacation" planning out the rest of this series so i know where I'm going with it.
> 
> Music: Krewella – Alibi (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-nEjZJVjvM )

Growing up, you’ve read a lot of fairy tales, and now you’ve watched enough romantic comedies and love stories to know sleeping with someone you’re in love with is something to be cherished. The unfortunate thing was that the reality is much different than the dream. Ramsay extended his arm out in his sleep and knocked you in the chest. Your eyes shot open and you sat up.

Still very much sleeping, Ramsay grunted and went back to deep snoring. You rolled your eyes and left the bed with your fleece blanket that you bought from Target on sale with your money. You wrapped the blanket around your body and went down the stairs of the Forest House. 

You had been there for two and a half weeks now, and you still weren’t used to the earthly and beautiful you had of the woods around you. You looked outside and admired the thick tree trunks with green grass and dark dirt everywhere. You felt a wet nose at your ankle.

“Good morning, Eggs,” you smiled and scratched the girl’s ears. She walked ahead and few steps and scratched at the door. “Ah, I see.”

You unlatched the lock and opened the door. Like a true lady, Eggs walked out into the open and looked for a good spot. Soon after, her brother, Bacon, raced out the door. He sniffed around and found a spot by a lovely tree to do his business on. You watched your new favorites when you felt your phone buzzing.

Charlotte: [Are you awake? I know it’s early.]

You started to type back when Bacon rushed back inside. 

Y/N: [I’m awake. What’s up?]

Charlotte: [Something happened.]

You responded almost immediately, thinking the worst.

Y/N: [What’s wrong? Are you okay? Call me if you’re not okay!]

You sat and waited in panic. When your phone buzzed again, you received a picture from Charlotte. It was a picture of her hand, and on her ring finger was a beautiful engagement ring. You gasped aloud. You pressed the dial button and waited for Charlotte to pick up.

“Hello?” she answered. You heard the smile in her voice. You began to squeal and jump for her over the phone. She joined in merrily and laughed with you.

“What happened? How did he do it? Where are you? Oh my god,” you went off like a bullet. Charlotte laughed.

“He’s a genius. He was perfect,” she began. “You remember Juliet’s home in Italy? He took me there. We read a bunch of information on it. Next thing I know, I’m standing on her balcony, grinning like an idiot. Dom is below me reciting the lines from the balcony scene. And then he climbs the wall and jumps onto the balcony! We almost got kicked out, but then he went down on one knee and asked me properly.”

“Oh Charlotte! I’m so happy for you!” you squealed. “Are you coming home soon?” Ramsay yawned when he walked into the kitchen. You watched him turn on the coffee machine and stare at it drowsily. 

“We plan to leave tomorrow,” Charlotte paused on the phone and you continued to watch Ramsay make himself coffee. He held a mug with sarcastic comment about Mondays and watched the coffee drip. “But I’m not sure if we’ll return to the warehouse home. With Stannis watching and all, we’re not sure if we’re safe there.”

“I agree with you,” you told her. Ramsay picked up the pitcher of coffee and poured himself a cup of black coffee. 

“Any updates?”

“Not really,” you said, letting Eggs back inside and closing the door. “Roose has turned Winterfell into a personal home. Walda has even done a photoshoot with Home and Gardens there. Other than that, we’ve received no word or action we can take. We’re kind of sitting ducks.”

“Oh, well, that’s different,” Charlotte said. “I’ll give you a call when we get home. Maybe we can meet up for wedding planning?”

“Sounds good,” you smiled. “I’ll see you later.” When you hung up the phone, you walked into the living room to Ramsay watching the morning news. The newscaster was presenting a story on another school shooting in America. Clips of parents crying, children walking out of the school with their hands above their heads were shown. You felt your heart sink. You never wanted to experience that kind of nightmare.

“Stannis has his eye on the underbelly and this shit keeps happening,” Ramsay mumbled. He took another sip of black coffee. “Clearly, his priorities are in the right place. Are you okay?”

You held your hand to your mouth, your face was wet. “Yes, well no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just those kids. They’re kids, and I just,” you took a pause to collect yourself. “It’s so sad. All of it.” 

“It’s okay,” Ramsay beckoned for you to come closer. You sat down next to him. “This has become a new normal. An unacceptable normal. I may have grown up with guns and bad people around me, but not everyone needs to live like that.”

“It just keeps happening. What if they blame the underbelly?”

“They will. They always do,” Ramsay went on. “They’ll blame anything that makes them feel better. The easier it is to find a scapegoat, the easier the pain is to deal with. Events like this turn out to good for the underbelly sometimes.”

“How so?” you said stressed.

“Sometimes surviving children become politicians wanting to change the way things are. Other times they find their way here where they can control the way things are. Did you notice how young some of the new recruits were?”

“And your father lets them join?”

“I was ten when I murdered something. I was fifteen when I murdered someone,” Ramsay turned to you. “I just realized. I know nothing about your childhood.” It was a valid curiosity. When you were Petyr’s pretty bird, you trained yourself to be whoever your client wanted you to be. Now that you were a Red King, you decided who you were.

“My childhood was normal, you know? Nothing much to it,’ you told him. Ramsay shook his head.

“I refuse to believe that,” Ramsay said. “A pretty bird who was too good at her job and even better at murdering people? Come on. What are you hiding from me?” You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. 

“We’re different. I want you to know that,” you started. “You grew up with a single mother only then to go to your dad and become who you are today. I didn’t grow up like that. My parents are still married. They loved each other very much.” 

“Were you well-off?”

“No, but I had everything I wanted. I took music lesson for a while. I never had to worry about money. My father was an honest businessman. My mother worked in human resources. They only wanted one child, so when they had me that was it. We were all very happy.”

“So what happened?” Ramsay said confused. “Most girls in Petyr’s employ don’t choose to be there.”

“I grew up in a small town. I was eighteen years old and bored. When I graduated high school, I was expected to go to college. But it just wasn’t enough. I fell into the same cookie cutter pattern my parents did. They were happy. I wasn’t.”

“You wanted more,” Ramsay sat back and listened intently. “I remember you mentioned a friend—

“Yes, the one who took me to Vegas,” you interrupted. “I wasn’t forced to do sex work. I didn’t need to. I was just—

“Bored,” Ramsay finished the sentence for you. He leaned forward. “Where are your parents now?”

“Alive, married. What does it matter?”

“Did you have a fallout with them? Do they know?” he asked. You shook your head.

“No. They don’t,” you answered. “But they haven’t contacted me either. I don’t hate them. I on’t know. I guess I’m just a terrible child.” Ramsay kissed your cheek.

“You’re the best kind of terrible,” he answered. “Who was on the phone?” Oh no. You forgotten already. You felt like a terrible friend.

“Charlotte. She and Domeric are engaged!”

“Finally,” Ramsay sighed. “Everyone’s been waiting for him to do it for years. It got really annoying, especially around Christmas.” His attention turned back to the news. They announced the weather for the rest of the day and the rest of the week.

“Charlotte also asked me if there were any updates,” you said.

“I don’t know. All I know is that we’re all in hiding, including our allies,” Ramsay grumbled. “I don’t like my father’s nonplan here. We’re sitting ducks taking useless shit in a pond.”

“Well, what can we do?” you asked him. Ramsay smirked.

“I have several ideas. Many of them are illegal,” Ramsay closed in the space between you. You felt his hot breath on your face. “How do you feel about going back to the old days?”

“When I scared little thing and you dragged me into committing murder?” you responded, booping his nose. He smiled.

“Yes, exactly,” Ramsay’s eyes looked into yours. “So, do you feel up to it, pretty bird? Or do you want to stay here?” 

You sat up and kissed him, meeting his lips with enthusiasm. He kissed you back leaving you almost breathless. He did that to you every time. You pulled back. 

“What’s a King without his pretty bird?” you answered.


	5. Pacific Northwest Hideout

Ben Bones walked into Strange Souls Brewing Company as if he were the owner. He took his sunglasses off and looked around the large, open floor. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and walked across the concrete floor. Chairs were still turned upside down on the wooden tables. Ben’s friends were grouped together at the bar on the far side from the entrance. Industrial lighting hung on the ceiling and the exposed steel beams ran across the ceiling. 

Historical decorations were placed throughout the brewery. Plagues about the hauntings here and the souls that lurked the halls above were hung throughout the bar. To the far right, Ben eyed the staircase that led to the upper floors of the building where he and the bastard’s boys stayed while everyone was hiding from Stannis and his eyes.

Ben got a closer look at his friends. Grunt, who had recently had been inked with a girl’s name on his left arm, gulped down a pint of beer. He was still silent and muscle, but valuable nonetheless. Yellow Dick still wore a beanie over his shaved head. His cell was inches away from his hand, but he enjoyed a pint with Grunt. He spoke about how long they may have to stay here.

Skinner stared off into space. He was either too high to function or he wasn’t paying attention. Ben quickly remembered how much skinner self-medicated these days. Some Red Kings didn’t make it out of the Vale, Skinner had been interrogated. The Boltons were grateful he didn’t give up any information, but he hadn’t been the same since.

Luton was fairly new to the Red Kings. He had become a favorite of Ramsay’s quickly. Unfortunately, Luton was also Ramsay’s new victim. His arms were often covered in scratches from Ramsay’s dogs. He considered himself lucky surviving Ramsay’s destruction of the first headquarters.

Ben could smell Sour Alyn’s foul breath, but his ears were listening to the quick-witted Damon Dance who had been describing a recent sexual adventure he had.

“His cock was so big!” he said aloud. “I never wanted to fuck something so bad.” 

“Oh shut up, will you?” Alyn responded. He hadn’t been as open-minded as the others, and Damon liked to tease him about it. Ben whistled. Each member looked his way.

“He’s coming. Alert everyone.”

Ever since you became a Red King, Ramsay took ample opportunity to show you off to the boys. He was proud of you. Not in the beautiful trophy girlfriend way, but in the way where Ramsay knew you could kill anyone in that room if you wanted to. You were his favorite weapon, besides your corsos in the backseat.

Bacon and Eggs each looked out their own window as you pulled up to the brewery. The old building had been in decent shape. You were somewhat impressed. You knew that Damon was an organized individual, but Red Kings weren’t known to be the greatest housekeepers.

You exited the vehicle. You fixed your dress and adjusted the gun strapped to your thigh. Bacon and Eggs flanked each side of you. You had trained them to walk when you told them to walk. To speak when they were told to speak. They sat and waited patiently for their father to cross in front of you. Ramsay left his jacket open, his white t-shirt caught some wind under it. You could peek at his chest tattoos when he walked. 

Ramsay led the way while all four of you entered into the brewery. You saw Red Kings gathered around. Some were your age, others were much older than you. White hairs in their beards and heads. Bacon and Eggs growled at some of them. Most kept their composure, but you caught more than one cringing at you, as if you were just as monstrous as their leader. 

After what happened at the Vale, nearly all the Red Kings knew about you. They knew who you were, what you did, who you killed, and most importantly, who you were to Ramsay. No one dared crossing you. 

Ramsay clapped his hands together once, sending an echo throughout the main brewery area. 

“You know why we’re here,” he started. “My father seems to think it’s a good idea for us to hide. Find day jobs, take shelter, and wait for all of this blow over. I think he’s an idiot.”

Several Red Kings started clapping and nodding their heads. Bacon sat down next to you, not taking his eyes off his father. You scratched his head. Ramsay paced the room and continued. 

“We are Red Kings. We don’t hide. Especially from Stannis. This white-collared-dickless fuck thinks he can put fear into us. I’m not scared of him,” Ramsay pointed to you. “She’s not scared of him. I don’t think anyone here is. That’s why I have a plan.”

Ramsay took out a picture of Stannis and pinned it to the brewery wall with a dagger. You cracked a smile. There was your new target. His grimace stared off into nothing which is what you wanted to make him.

“We’re going to kill him. His associates. His underlings. His spies. Everyone around him. We have the men. We have allies. The underbelly will not be hiding away in fear. We’re stronger than them.” Ramsay’s menacing eyes met yours. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. 

“How do you expect us to do that?” Sour Alyn shouted. His rude tone was noted by Eggs and she sent a low growl that had Sour Alyn step back once. You quieted her by shushing her in her ear. Eggs was much more aggressive than her brother, but she was a quick listener. She stopped, but kept a careful eye on the cruel king.

Ramsay prowled away from the picture of Stannis and towards Alyn. His blue eyes locked on him. The same smile that tugged at his mouth was now a firm line.   
“Didn’t you listen to me? We have allies. Bring them together and we have all the pieces we need to get rid of Stannis and put one of our own in power.” The pieces started to fit together in their heads. For a group of assassins and felons, you expected a higher level of intelligence. 

You watched your boyfriend roll his eyes for the fourth time today. If this was how today was going to go, you would likely start a tally in your head. Ramsay kept himself in the center of the room. His eyes everywhere.

“We’ll start with an old friend of the family,” his voice louder. “He used to be a weapons dealer and smuggler. He’s still in the business, and he’ll be likely to be seeking revenge. He has his own qualms about Stannis as much as we do.”

“An old friend? Up here?” one of the kings spoke aloud.

“No, more north. Pass the border,” Ramsay’s smile slowly grew on his face. “Mance Rayder.”

“Mance? The North King?” Damon repeated. He met Ramsay’s eyes with confusion. “He’s retired.”

“He’s semi-retired. He’s living among his own people, finding peace,” Ramsay continued. “We go to him. Strike a deal, and we have our weapons.”

“What kind of weapons?” Skinner spoke. You looked at the bags under his eyes. It seemed PTSD still haunted him. 

“Anything we want. Mance can get it.”

“How do we know if he even will support us? He’s in Canada,” another king spoke aloud. Ramsay rolled his eyes again. Five times you counted. He took out his gun walking towards the outspoken king. He stuck the barrel on the king’s thigh. Ramsay let out a long exasperated breath.

“Question me one more time, and I’ll unload this,” Ramsay spoke under his breath, but just loud enough for everyone to hear. “You all need to have faith in me. After all, I am your leader. Lack of faith in me means your own demise. I am protecting all of us. I am thinking for all of us.”

Ramsay kept eye contact with the outspoken king. You saw the king wipe the sweat off his brow and he nodded, keeping quiet. Ramsay took the barrel away and walked towards you. 

“We start there. We’ll move when we have the things we need.”

When the meeting dispersed, several kings headed out for the day. Others started to open the brewery and flipped chairs from the tables, wiping the tables clean afterwards. Ben and Damon sat by the bar, talking with Ramsay.

“He’s an old man.”  
“He’ll support us,” Ramsay corrected.

“You don’t know that,” Damon’s brow raised. He sighed. “This is a risky plan. Crossing the border to speak with an FBI Most Wanted weapon smuggler isn’t how we should start this.”

“Do you have a better plan?” you questioned, tired of people questioning Ramsay. You watched Ramsay smirk and look back to Damon, both of you waiting for his reaction. 

Damon looked down, his hand massaged the back of his neck. “No, but this is a dangerous plan. Does Domeric know?”

“Does he need to know?” Ramsay retorted. “Everyone needs to stop hesitating and listen to me for once.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“We listen to you all the time. Last time we almost died because of her!” Ben gestured to you. “Sorry, Y/N. No offense. You’re lovely.”

You smiled at your friend, but a quick look from Ramsay faded that away. He shot Ben a dangerous look.

“What happened in the Vale was bound to happen. Unfortunately for us, Lysa was already killed, and Petyr Baelish is still on the loose. God knows where.” Even at the mention of his name, it sent shivers down your spine. Petyr was still very much alive and in hiding. Flashes of memory came to mind. His lying. His manipulation. Him threatening your life. 

You could feel the anger bubbling up inside of you, but the fear came crashing in your head like waves. Petyr was still in your head. He was your boss. He was your savior. And you had a feeling he still wanted to kill you. Sometimes you couldn’t sleep at night because of the recurring thoughts in your head. 

You were in love with Ramsay, future leader of the Red Kings, but you were still afraid of the man who almost took everything away from you to push forward his own agenda.

A snap of fingers brought you back to the brewery. Ben lowered his hand and then Ramsay turned to you. 

“Are you alright?” Ramsay asked. You nodded your head, smiling.

“I’m fine,” you lied. You promised up and down that you would never lie to Ramsay, but this was one thing you had to keep to yourself. At least for now. Ramsay wouldn’t be able to understand. His focus was elsewhere.

You felt his fingers reach out for yours. He squeezed your hand once and let go. Ramsay whistled and both Bacon and Eggs came to his side, they walked out the door with Skinner and Alyn discussing specifics under their breaths.

“You’re not fine, are you?” Ben patted a seat next to him at the bar. You sat down next to him, sucking in your bottom lip.

“No. I’m not.”

“Why lie to Ramsay then?” Ben pointed out. His eyes searching yours for soe hint before you could give it to him. 

“He wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t know.”

“Is he treating you ok?” you wanted to be shocked by the question, but you knew what kind of person Ramsay was. He didn’t have girlfriends, and if he did, they never lasted long.

“How many girlfriends did Ramsay have?” it was a valid question. Ramsay never spoke to you about his romantic past. It started several arguments, but it always ended with him telling you: ‘You don’t want to know. You don’t need to know’. Ben leaned back letting out a deep breath. He shut his mouth and then opened it again.

“You know, he told me not to tell you,” Ben said. “One night, he came out with us and smashed pints against the wall. We were kicked out, of course, but he kept on swearing. He told me you two had a fight. Something about his past relationships.”

“I know. I remember.” You recalled that night in the back of your head. You screamed at Ramsay, pointing your fingers at his phone. Ramsay only crossed his arms and waited for you to stop. His blue eyes already turned cold.

“To be honest, a lot of us didn’t think you guys would last this long.” Ben said. A pang of curiosity and hope flickered in you.

“What do you mean?”

“Ramsay’s slept around. He’s fooled around, but he’s never had someone like you. You asked me how many girlfriends he had. That’s not the real question here. What you really want to know is how many serious girlfriends he’s had.”

“And? How many?” your stomach clenched, preparing for the number. Ben cracked a smile.

“Only you.” 

“What?” you said in shock. 

“Maybe it’s because Ramsay never took women seriously like Domeric did. Maybe it’s because his mother died a long time ago. But, he never had anything serious with anyone until he met you.” Ben eyed the door. Both of you watched Ramsay walk in with Skinner by his side. Ben climbed out of the high stool and turned to you again.

“If Ramsay does something wrong, forgive him. Don’t hide things from him. You don’t know how precious you are to him. I mean it,” before you could respond to Ben’s words, Ramsay walked up to you and kissed your head gently. 

“We’re staying here tonight,” Ramsay told you. “Tomorrow we’ll make our way North.”


	6. North Border

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: Au5 - Crossroad (feat. Danyka Nadeau) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUy78QHeuvs)

Cold weather wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. Thick leggings, Ramsay’s sweater, and a beanie later you felt fine. You couldn’t say the same about Ben. His teeth chattered away as you made your way towards an alley entrance. The city itself was quiet much like how mice were quiet and they burrowed themselves in holes and tunnels where no one can find them. 

Small icicles formed on the roofs and edges of the buildings. They dripped slowly; warmer weather was on the way. The entrance was not much, only a metal door with a square opening in the middle. Ramsay knocked on it thrice, and the opening slid open to reveal an older man. His eyes were wrinkled, a scar healed on the bridge of his nose.

“Ah, the Bastard,” he said. “Mance’s been expectin’ ya.” The opening closed, and the door opened to a dirty hideout. Pizza boxes were left everywhere. Beer cans were smashed in corners and piled up on tables. Folding tables were set up throughout the large, nearly empty space, but there was one corner that caught your eye.

A small television set played the local news while an old man sat comfortably in a sitting chair. Behind the television set was the American flag, torn and a bit burnt. The words: “Justice for All” were spray painted across it.

“Mance Rayder,” Ramsay called aloud. The old man turned and got up from his chair. His long black hair was tied back. His darker skin had wrinkles, cuts, and a few blemishes. His plaid shirt kept him warm, but his belt buckles caught your eye. The American eagle with its wings extended out. His pistol stayed clipped to his side, and his cell stayed clipped on the other.

“Roose’s Bastard,” Mance smiled. “You’ve done a lot of growing up since I last see ya.” Mance eyed Ramsay head to toe. 

“I have. See you aged like milk,” Ramsay responded. Mance laughed and then coughed, trying to catch his breath.

“You didn’t lose that quick tongue of yours,” Mance said wheezing. “I told Roose I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you. Your brother, of course, is much more respectful and polite. I always preferred you. You are much more fun to do business with.” You caught Ramsay smile genuinely, but it faded away as soon as you looked.

“I’ve come here to present you with an idea,” Ramsay started. “I’m sure you’ve heard of my father’s raid?” The older man brought over some folding chairs. He set one down across from the soft sitting chair and offered it to you. Older men were almost always your recurring clients when you were a little bird. You always appreciated their old-fashioned manners. You sat, noticing Mance’s eyes on you for a moment.

“Ya I’ve heard,” Mance responded. “It seems the Fed’s little darlin’ has risen to new heights. Winterfell is a jewel, but she comes with more issues than women’s magazines.” 

“What else have you heard?” Ben asked. His arms crossed against his chest. When he exhaled, you watch his breath form in the air. It was like a small ghost drifting away.

“That ya’ll Kings have been in hiding. Word got around fast. If the Kings are hiding then everyone else hid too. Gangs, drug lords, prostitute rings, everybody.” 

A thought occurred to you. “What of Baelish and his birds? Are they hiding?” 

Ramsay narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, but listened to Mance for his answer.

“They’re down south from what I’ve heard. They used to be in New York, now they’re in Miami. Don’t know if Petyr’s with them. Last I heard, he’s hiding with Sansa Stark. They’re wanted for murder.” Ramsay put his hands on your shoulders. His thumb caressed you slightly. He knew the same truth as you: Sansa Stark didn’t murder anyone. 

“I know everyone is sick of hiding,” Ramsay spoke. “I propose we make an alliance. You give me your weapons, and I’ll take care of Stannis and his team.”

Mance sat back. His thoughts were lost on you. Usually, you were able to read the mind of an old man, or any man. This time, Mance’s thoughts were further away from you. He eyed you again and then shifted in his seat.

“No,” he said.

“No?” Ramsay repeated back to him. 

“I won’t do it.”

Ramsay scoffed and furrowed his brow. “Why? Didn’t you just say you prefer doing business with me?’

“I did, and that’s true, but I’m not giving you my weapons, boy,” Mance’s tone quickly changed from warm to freezing. You felt a slight chill from his words.

“Why?” Ramsay demanded. You grabbed Ramsay’s hand. This was the second time this week people were telling him no. It was a dangerous answer, but somehow people were brave enough to tell him no. Mance Rayder looked over to you once more. His finger wagged at you.

“Because of her,” he said. Ramsay slowly looked at you and started laughing.

“You’re not giving weapons to me because of my girlfriend?” Ramsay continued laughing.

“So it is her,” Mance confirmed. “The answer is no.”

“You’re afraid of my girlfriend?” Ramsay smirked.

“I am. I know what she’s capable of,” Mance said, keeping his eye on you. His friend stood behind him. His fingers brushed against his own gun. “I heard what she can do. I heard stories about her. The Red Queen.”

“The Red Queen?” you repeated. “Is that what you call me?”

“That’s what everyone calls you, honey,” Mance’s friend said. “We know about you.” Ramsay snorted. He couldn’t hide his smile.

“This is ridiculous,” Ramsay admitted. “She’s with me. You would be supporting our cause.”

“The cause of monsters.”

You felt your stomach drop. Ramsay’s laughter stopped. His eyes narrowed. Before he could towards Mance, you grabbed his hand, bringing his thoughts back to reality.

“What do you mean ‘cause of monsters’?”

“I mean, that you have a monster on your hands,” Mance pointed at you. “She’s killed people.” Ramsay blinked.

“We’ve all killed people, Mance. Including you.”

“Not like her. She’s ripped a man apart,” Mance shook his head. “It’s true isn’t it? You tore out his insides and laid them across the floor like he was your prey.” Flashes of that day came back to you. Slicing Brad’s belly open like a smile. Your hands deep in his abdomen. His entrails and guts all over the floor. It was justice.

“It is,” you said flatly. Mance shook his head.

“People shouldn’t die like that. What you did was terrible.”

“I’ve tortured people,” Ramsay interjected. His nostrils flaring. “I have unraveled people. I kill people every day. And I like it. She’s not a monster. She ripped that man apart because he ripped her apart.”

“I knew what you were before you did,” Mance told Ramsay. “I know how good you are at your job. Many join your ranks to find income, but she joined your ranks because she likes it. Maybe she likes it more than you.” Ramsay’s fingers itched at his sides. 

“Don’t,” you said. You turned your attention to Mance. “I know what you think I am. But we still need those guns. Ramsay came politely to ask you for them. He wanted to start to form an alliance across the underbelly. We have the power. We just need to work together. What can I do to change your mind?”

 

Mance sat back, humming to himself. He looked up to his friend. His friend nodded. Mance slowly made his way out of the comfortable chair and towards a map on the wall. The Northern border between Canada and America was highlighted in red. Blue circles near the border were also drawn.

“I’ve stopped dealing with weapons,” Mance told all three of you. “I still have them, but I use my weapons for a different purpose now.”

“What kind of purpose?” Ramsay stepped forward, studying the map in front of you. 

“Where your business is killing people, I save them,” Mance said. You looked at the map again. It was so obvious.

“You’re smuggling people across the border illegally,” you said aloud. Ramsay quickly turned to you, impressed that you came up with the solution before he did. Mance nodded slowly. 

“She’s a smart one, good job,” he nodded to Ramsay. 

“Who are you smuggling?” Ramsay asked.

“That’s none of your business. Who they are and what they do does not matter. What matters is that their safety comes first. I give them security and resources. What matters to you is helping me,” Mance said.

“You want us to smuggle people across the border?” you asked. You glanced back to see Ben still standing there. He listened intently but never spoke a word. You could see him taking notes in his eyes.

“No, I need you to do what you do best,” Mance turned to Ramsay. “I have hits, but I have no money to offer you. You take out these people, and my weapons are yours.” Ramsay smirked. Finally, he was getting his way. 

“Who do you need me to take out?”


	7. Nothing Matters Except You

The diamond on Charlotte’s finger sparkled and brightened in the light. You couldn’t stop smiling for her as you admired her ring. Your fingers tenderly held her left hand until you brought yourself to let go. Your fingers went back to the warmth of the coffee mug. You brought the coffee to your lips once more and tasted the house roast and warmed milk. 

Charlotte chose to meet up with you in a local café instead of the brewery the boys ran. You thought it was a bit odd until now. The small café was quiet. It only took up a corner in a town nearby. You sat away from the windows and closer to the hot kitchen. Local art and pictures of locals were hung throughout the café. Your eye caught a portrait of bacon and eggs, and your mind went back to your babies.

“Have you two decided anything about the wedding?” you asked Charlotte, bringing yourself back to the conversation.

“Nothing just yet,” Charlotte smiled. She pushed her brown hair back behind her ear. “Dom and I still need to lay low. Roose plans to send us both on missions.”

“Missions? What do you mean?”

“Domeric is investigating further into the Winterfell being bugged. He has an inkling that someone had been watching Theon after he took over to find evidence for the missing Stark boys. Roose hasn’t instructed me on my focus yet, but I have an inkling he wants me to find Sansa Stark.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? Roose gave you and Domeric mission while Ramsay and I are left with nothing?”

“I don’t blame him.” You felt your heart sink, but your anger rise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked slowly. Your eyes pointed at Charlotte. 

“Don’t take it personally,” Charlotte’s left hand reached out to you. “Ramsay’s record recently has left him sloppy. It’s best for both of you to do nothing and lay low.”

“But we have the means to take down Stannis and put him in his place. We just finished off Lysa. We can do it again.” You leaned forward watching Charlotte’s reactions. A low feeling in your gut was telling you that Charlotte didn’t feel the same way you did. Charlotte sighed and shook her head.

“You need to understand. We cannot afford to go after Stannis right now. Not when Ramsay keeps defying orders.”

“Elaborate.” You sat back, arms crossed.

“A year ago, Ramsay took on a small street gang by himself and landed in the hospital. When the police asked what happened, Roose had to cover for him. After that, he kidnapped Theon Greyjoy and ruined him.” Charlotte looked down. “He’s not even human anymore. Roose wanted to offer Theon as ransom to the Greyjoys, so we could gain their territory. Now we have nothing.”

Theon hadn’t crossed your mind in a while. You hadn’t seen him since the night Ramsay kidnapped him. You remembered that night. You remembered Ramsay slowly take that man apart in front of you, and you enjoyed every minute of it. Theon deserved everything that happened to him. Charlotte gave you one last example.

“And then there was the worst one, Charlotte bit her lip. “There was you.”

“Me?”

“Roose ordered Ramsay to fuck Ros—

“Yes, I know,” you snapped. Every time anyone brought Ros up, you only thought of her body left to die. You thought of your last moments with her. How you never got to say goodbye.

“Yes, but Ros was supposed to give us information on Petyr. On Cersei. After Ros spilled the beans, Ramsay was supposed to kill her. But, he showed up and took one look at you and ruined everything.”

“Char, you’re making it sound like this is my fault.”

“It’s not. That’s not—listen. I don’t know what you did, but after one day Ramsay became obsessed with you. Roose told him to lay off, and he was relentless.”

“Ramsay didn’t contact me for weeks, Char.” Your tone became cold. “Was that defying orders?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Charlotte sighed and looked away from you for a moment. Her words played over in her head. “Please listen to me. I’ve known Ramsay for a lot longer than you. I’ve seen him with other girls. I remember Beth and what he did to her.”

You leaned forward. Your hands wrapped around your now room temperature coffee. “I’m listening.”

“Ramsay controlled everything she did. Who she saw, what she wore, what kind of missions she went on. She swore up and down that he loved her. That Ramsay would do anything for her. Beth had everything. Ramsay gave her clothes, jewelry, even her own place. Beth would boast to the other female Red Kings who loved her, who fucked her, who would kill for her.”

Charlotte scooted her seat closer to you, keeping a careful eye on the door.

“Roose sent Ramsay and Beth on a mission. They were supposed to make a deal and murder someone important. It doesn’t matter who now. Ramsay and Beth left. Only Ramsay came back.” 

“What happened to her?”

“Ramsay killed her. When she ruined the mission, he killed her. He cleaned out all of her things. He rolled his eyes and moved on. Ramsay never loved her. She was his fuck toy and when he was bored of her, he got rid of her.”

“What are you implying?” You felt your anger boiling. Charlotte sucked in the air she breathed. Careful of the words she chose next.

“I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want anything to happen to you. If you don’t lay low and follow Roose’s orders, it could be the end of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’ve seen it.” Charlotte’s insulting words cut deep. You weren’t Beth. You weren’t the other girls he dated. You were different.

“Ramsay wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You don’t know that.” 

Your fist slammed the table. It alerted the rest of the café, and a few heads turned your way. Your eyes locked on Charlotte’s green eyes. They didn’t have any flecks or dust of any other color in them. You did notice her dilated irises staring back at you.

“You have no idea what Ramsay and I have. I’m not Beth. And according to your weapon dealer friend, Mance Rayder, I’m a fucking monster.” You left the table, leaving Charlotte in the dust. You pushed out the door and felt the bite of ice cold weather hit your cheeks. Charlotte caught a hold of you before you reached your car.

“Ramsay Bolton is darker than you know. Don’t let him drag you into the same hell he resides in,” Charlotte urged you. You pushed her away and got into your car. As you sped off, Charlotte became smaller and smaller until she was nothing but an annoying speck out of your life. You kept your speed over the speed limit, but it increased dramatically when you hit the highway. 

Charlotte had been on your side when it came to your relationship with Ramsay. During your training, you had gone on several double dates with the pair. Charlotte knew of Ramsay’s feelings for you. What changed? Why was she so against it now?

When you reached Strange Souls Brewing Company, you stormed into the pub at a busy time. People crowded the seats and played the same board games. The volume was loud due to the rock music that played and all the conversations that happened around you. It didn’t matter. You needed quiet. You focus was on the hallway entrance to the right. The old hotel rooms that the Bastard’s Boys stayed in. Get there. Get to your room. Go to sleep.

You were done with today.

The ground felt your anger ten times over as you headed straight towards your goal destination. You felt a right grip pull you back and made you stop. You whipped your head around to see Ramsay who held a half-empty pint in his other hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you tried to leave Ramsay’s grasp, but he tightened. Pulling you closer to him, his eyes never left your face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked you again. He didn’t like repeating himself, but this time his voice was softer. “How was Charlotte?”

You looked around you. A couple behind you walked straight to the main bar where Damon was. He served beer after beer. He didn’t notice you were here. He was busy flirting with the newest customer ordering. Ben spoke with an unruly customer who swayed back and forth on his feet.

Still, the anger bubbled up inside of you. Your face felt hot and you felt that same energy go into your hands, your stomach, and where Ramsay held you. You looked to Ramsay again. His blue orbs were too calm as if he knows what happened with Charlotte.

“Please tell me,” Ramsay pleaded. 

You calmed down and let your hands fall to your sides. Ramsay Bolton did not plead. He did not beg. He stood in front of you and waited for you. 

“She said that we’re not good for each other and we need to lay low,” you let the words lay out like a blackjack deal. You waited for Ramsay’s reaction. He rolled his eyes, and stepped closer to you.

“Do you want to go somewhere private?” he asked. When you nodded, Ramsay’s fingers found yours and he led you away from the main floor of Strange Souls. The upper floors still had the old hotel room intact. As both of you made your way towards the second floor, the noise from the drinking patrons faded away. 

Ramsay opened one of the doors to a private suite and ushered you inside. When he locked the door behind you, silence took over. Peace and quiet indeed. 

The room was simpler than you thought. You didn’t see any kind of technology. No television set or wifi. Just a phone on the nightstand that you weren’t even sure was connected. The bed looked warm and plush from the dozen pillows and blankets piled onto it. Ramsay sat down at the edge of the bed.  
“What did she really say?” Ramsay asked. Your puzzled look made Ramsay roll his eyes and repeat himself. “Charlotte didn’t say we weren’t good for each other. What did she really say?”

“She said that you got sloppy. And that’s it’s my fault.” You almost regretted saying the words out loud to your boyfriend. Ramsay inhaled sharply, taking his rising anger with it. 

“I knew she would be resentful,” he mumbled. “What else did she say?” Your eyes searched for other things in the room. Dust on the windowsills. The cloudy day outside. Days ago, you asked Ben a similar question. The memory flashed back instantly.

_“Ramsay’s slept around. He’s fooled around, but he’s never had someone like you. You asked me how many girlfriends he had. That’s not the real question here. What you really want to know is how many serious girlfriends he’s had.”_

_“And? How many?” your stomach clenched, preparing for the number. Ben cracked a smile._

_“Only you.”_

The answer haunted you. If you were the only serious girlfriend Ramsay had, then who was Beth? How much did she man to Ramsay? He killed her. Would he kill you too?

“Y/N, what else did Charlotte say?” Ramsay’s words turned cold. You promised him you wouldn’t lie. 

“She told me about Beth,” you said, defeated. “Charlotte told me everything about Beth.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” you looked down and waited for Ramsay to respond. He stood up and walked towards you, closing the space between you both with a kiss on your cheek. He pushed back a strand of flyaway hair behind your ear.

“You’re not Beth,” Ramsay said into your ear. “Beth was nothing compared to you.”

“Did you love her?” you asked. 

“No,” he said. “I never did.”

“And what about me?” you turned your head to see Ramsay’s eyes already looking into yours. You could say his blue orbs reminded you of the deadly sea, ready to drown anyone who challenged him, but right now the sea was still. An immovable force ready for anything.

“You know how I feel about you,” Ramsay confessed. His fingers moved against the fabric of your shirt. “I don’t need to say it out loud.”

Ramsay kissed your cheek once more, and you turned away from him. You wished he would say it out loud. You needed to hear it. You needed some proof that you weren’t facing the same fate as Beth or other girls. 

Ramsay tucked his fingers under your chin and turned your face towards his. This time, he kissed you hungrily. His tongue traced your bottom lip, teasing for entry. You wanted to resist. You wanted to tell him no until his fingers slipped just under your shirt. The warmth from his hands spread across your stomach and back. 

You found yourself kissing him back. His touch only made you give into him more. You let his tongue inside. You would battle for dominance, but he already won. You felt the same electricity when he kissed you the first time. It surged and burned into your skin. Your fingers weaved into his hair and around his neck. You moaned into his mouth when he squeezed your breast. 

Both of you moved towards the bed. Your back hit the soft blankets first, then your legs. Ramsay crawled on top of you and slowly took his shirt off. His inked body on show just for you. His muscular arms pinned yours behind you. His other hand focused getting into your pants as quickly as possible. Before you protest, you gasped. His fingers found your bundle of nerves. They went around in circles. Your stomach tightened at the increasing speed. 

Ramsay’s mouth kissed down your body and stomach before it found your pussy. His tongue licked and penetrated your opening. 

“Ramsay,” you moaned his name out loud. You watched him smile as he ate you out more. He licked and sucked on you until your wetness and his saliva were joined together. He kissed up your body and buried himself into you. As his penis slid into you, Ramsay bit your ear and tugged at it. You winced in pain, and gasped for breath.

His familiar rhythm made itself known. The way his arms held your legs. The way his hot breath whispered awful things in your ear. The way he moved with you in the bed was all too familiar. He was yours. You knew the way he fucked you, and you loved every minute of it. 

Ramsay’s breath hitched as you watched him lose focus on top of you. Your lips crashed into his at the pinnacle of the moment. You bit down on his lip as he grunted. His thrusts became one long one as his seed poured inside of you. As he pulled out, you saw the last remains of it between his and your legs.

You tried to catch your breath until Ramsay took of your legs until and buried his face between them. Your stomach winded up once more. Yours hands went into his hair, grabbing it and pulling at it. Trying to grab a hold of something to control your pleasure. Ramsay’s tongue and fingers became unpredictable. He kissed and sucked at it until your legs started to shake uncontrollably. He was getting so close, but he said nothing. Allowing you no break from him. 

Your skin was covered in a new sweat. Ramsay’s mouth lapped against you until you whimpered and then finally coming into his mouth and fingers. Your hips did the last thrusts onto his fingers. You watched Ramsay’s stick his own fingers inside his mouth, keeping eye contact as he tasted you. His smirk matched his satisfied eyes. He loved the way you tasted. As he belonged to you, you belonged to him just the same.


	8. No Fear

The sun reached its highest point in the day and you were still in bed with Ramsay’s arms wrapped around you. You didn’t dare move. Why would you? You were warm. You were being snuggled. All had been quiet, even Ramsay’s snoring had faded away. Bacon and Eggs slept at the foot of the bed together. 

One of them sniffed the air and started to bark at the door. So much for silence. Before you could deal with the noise, Ramsay shot up. His hair stood up in spots. He squinted at the door.

“Who is it? What the fuck do you want?!” Ramsay shouted at the door. He didn’t want to be disturbed either.

“It’s Mance. He’s here,” you heard a very distinct Damon from the other side. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Now? It’s morning!”

“It’s afternoon, Ramsay,” Damon shouted back from the other side. “Check your watch, asshole.” Ramsay huffed and glanced at his watch on his wrist. He groaned loud and got out of bed. Fuck. You had to wake up too.

“Tell him I’ll be down there in ten,” Ramsay told him. “Don’t fucking wake me up again.” He turned towards the bathroom. You heard his piss and shot up yourself. This day wasn’t going to be pleasant by any means. 

With both of your fur babies by your side, you faced Mance Rayder first. His scowl deepened when he laid eyes on you. Three other men stood behind him. All of them looked the same with their plaid shirts, jeans, and work boots. Your frown faded away when you remembered you had two pitbulls at your side. Nothing bad was going to happen to you here.

“Good morn—

“Where is he?” Mance asked. “I want to talk to him, not you.” You rolled your eyes and stepped aside. Ramsay tugged at the collar of his leather jacket. He glanced your way and then his full attention went to Mance. 

“You have a plan I presume?” Ramsay said. “Or are you here to gawk at her and waste my time?”

“I have a plan,” Mance told him. “And you better start learning manners, boy.” Ramsay rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need manners. I could just end you if I don’t like you,” Ramsay glanced at you again. “Or she could. Your choice.” Silence fell into the room like a large elephant. 

“Are we doing this?” said one of Mance’s men.

Ramsay clapped his hands together. “Yes, what’s the plan?”

“No, not with her here,” Mance wagged his finger at you. “I want her to leave.”

“Excuse me?” You responded. “I have a name.”

“I won’t talk until she’s gone,” Mance stood straight. His fists at his sides. Ramsay started to laugh.

“You really are afraid of her aren’t you?” Ramsay’s voice carried across the brewery. “Pathetic.” Silence fell like an elephant once more. As if the two elephants in the room weren’t enough to create another awkward moment. You could hear Damon slurping away on a smoothie.

Mance’s face turned soft. “There’s a group of people who need to come south. Their contact asked me personally to get them here. My problem is, I have a U.S. Marshall breathing down my back. He has manpower. I don’t.”

“You need us to kill him?” Ramsay asked.

“I need you to help me get these people across the border.” Mance urged. “The less death there is, the better.” Ramsay glanced at you and shared the same look. Mance didn’t know how you two dealt with things. His eyes went back to Mance, stepping forward towards him.

“Give me logistics,” Ramsay ordered. 

That night, you sat next to Ben at a quiet bar. Old men enjoyed their beers around you. Neon signs lit up the place while ESPN played in the background. You tucked your arm around his. 

“What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“We’re pretending we’re a couple, no?” You pointed out. “We have to look like one.” Your fingers curled around his. The sensation became weird. There was a time where you could kiss and flirt all you wanted with other men, but the thought of Ramsay sat in the back of your mind. You’d wondered what he would do if he as here.

“How are you and Ramsay?” Ben asked. His eyes stayed on the door. A bouncer sat idly on his phone, keeping his jacket on for the colder weather outside.

“We’re…I don’t know,” you confessed. “Charlotte and I had a fight about it. She told me about Beth.”

“Fucking Charlotte,” Ben cursed under his breath. “You weren’t supposed to know about her.” You rolled your eyes.

“Think I don’t know that?” 

“No, it’s just—ugh,” Ben grunted. His eyes shied away from the door to you. “He wanted things to be different with you.”

“Is there other shit you guys are hiding from me?”

“Yes. No, it’s complicated.”

“Of course it is,” you said. You let go of Ben and sat back in the booth you two occupied. The head on the pint you were drinking shrank down to size. “Why is it so hard to trust him?”

“Because he’s not trustworthy,” Ben confirmed for you. “You’re not Beth. The last thing Ramsay wants is you dead or hurt, ok?”

You shook your head, staring off at one of the televisions. Your eyes almost lost in the football game. “This is exactly why I can’t tell him.”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” Ben’s eyes shifted back to the door and then to you again. His hand found your back. The comforting touch of a friend was more healing than you remembered. 

“I’m still scared. We lost to Petyr. He’s still out there. What if he’s out to get me? What if he’s placed hits on me? I ruined him. I ruined the pretty birds. He gave me a home, a job, and so much more. I give him his legacy in ruins.”

“Whoa hey now,” Ben pushed his dark hair back. “Petyr manipulated you. He didn’t give you a life. He used you.” 

“I can’t get him out of my head. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I think he’s going to come and kill me.” 

Ben’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. His hand rubbed your back continuously. If Ramsay were here, he’d be livid. Having one of his bastards touching you like this was more than he could handle. In your early days as a trainee, Luton and you were teamed up quite often for exercises. Luton had taken to you quickly, and you considered him a fairly good friend. That is, until Luton smacked your ass as a joke. 

In seconds, Ramsay tackled Luton to the ground, knife in his hand. He’d become Ramsay’s new toy since then. 

“Have you told Ramsay? Have you tried?” Ben asked in more hushed tones. You shook your head.  
“Ramsay wouldn’t understand. He’s never lived in fear like that. If I told him, he would just roll his eyes at me. I don’t think he cares.”

“Ramsay’s never been afraid of anything. I watched Locke burn Ramsay with a cigarette when we were kids. Straight up told him that he was going to kill him. Ramsay didn’t care then either. He just smiled and told him to fuck off.”

“How old was he?”

“Eleven. His mom had died the year before. His mom’s family passed him around until his grandma finally went to Roose and dropped off all his things. She told Roose that Ramsay was a stain in their family, that nobody wanted him.”

“He just doesn’t care?” You asked.

“Whether if he lives or dies, he’ll still have the same chaotic smile on his face. I fear the day Ramsay faces death,” Ben’s words faded into the air. They sat there with a heavy weight. All of you were assassin and spies. Two occupations that were not known for their long lives. Your head went back to Petyr Baelish and the Birdcage. 

What happened to the girls left behind? Were they able to run away from him? Did they stay with him? Did anyone die? You thought of Roz, your best friend in the entire world, and how she died. She did Petyr’s work well, so well that he sent her to her own death. You couldn’t help but remember his hands around your neck. The gun to your head. His filthy words and actions soaked in your head until Ben nudged you.

“Focus,” Ben told you. “I don’t know how bad it is, but I need you here. We’re on a mission, remember? Couple time.” Ben’s fingers curled back around yours. He was right. You were a Red King now. You had power. You had your new skills. You had your friends. Nothing bad was going to happen to you. You held Ben’s hand and watched the door with him.

Both of you were waiting for your target to arrive. Mance Rayder had told Ramsay and his bastards about him. He didn’t directly work for Stannis, but he may as well have. A young man who was almost the same age as you. He had accomplished so much for his status in life. He had made it to the highest clearing of security that Homeland Security could offer. He led Border Security and was the biggest enemy of Mance.

Ben and you were only Phase One. Ramsay and the others were spread out across the sleepy Northern town. 

“There,” Ben eyed the door. Both of you watched your target walk through the door. He sat down at the bar where the bartender immediately served him two bottles of an IPA. “It’s him. I can see his pretty brown eyes.”

He took his jacket off, and you saw the attractive young man beneath. His dark curls and perfect chest made you hold your breath.   
“Jon Snow,” you said.


	9. The North

You never thought your enemy could look so attractive. Ben was right. He was pretty. You tried to remember anyone you’ve ever served, and no, he was much prettier than all of your clients. You sat still and kept your eyes on him. Ben squeezed your hand.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Fine. I’m fine. What’s next?” you asked, nothing Ben turning over his phone on the table. 

“Second phase begins. Mance and Ramsay know what to do. We keep him away from the border. Got it?” You nodded your head, watching Jon sip away at a beer. His eyes glazed over the TV. Ben continued talking in your ear. “Keep your eyes on him. I have to call Ramsay.”

“Why?” you whispered back.

“I need his permission to do something. I have an idea.” You let Ben slip out and watched him dial his phone for Ramsay. Meanwhile, you continued to watch Jon. He must have been your age which was impressive for someone who was Commander of the Night Watch. Mance Rayder told you that he was the youngest one to do it. He highly suspected that his bastard father, Ned Stark, got him the position. 

He wore red plaid underneath his heavy jacket. No visible tattoos or piercings, but you wanted to stare into his brown eyes for days. You shook it off. You loved Ramsay. You were with Ramsay. You wondered where your loyal boyfriend was until Ben walked back and sat down next to you. His hand held yours.

“He hates the idea, but it’s a good one,” Ben said. “I need you to follow my lead. Remember all the lying Ramsay and I taught you? I need you to use those same skills now, ok?”

You nodded your head, trusting your friend. Ben had been more than happy to accept you into the Red Kings when you first joined. In fact, you heard him say ‘we need more girls here, they’re sneakier’. You looked on to Jon Snow again. His eyes still glazed over by the tv. You felt a tug on your arm.

“I told you to never see him again,” Ben growled at you. His grip tightened on you.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” you played along, catching on to what he was doing quickly.

“Are you?” Ben’s nostrils flared. “You don’t look like you’re sorry.” You started shaking your head.

“No! I am! I swear! Please just calm down.”

“Calm down? You’re still seeing your ex and you want me to calm down?” Ben’s voice raised. A bartender coughed in your direction. His eyes fully aware of what was happening.  
“You two alright?” he called out. Before you could lie to him, Ben filled it in for you.

“We’re fine. Leave us alone,” Ben growled. His grip on you never changed. What could you say? Ben loved to stay in character. Ben came close to you again. You smelled his cologne when his shirt opened up. “Is he looking?”

“Sort of,” you told Ben. “We need to amp it up.”

“I don’t want to actually hurt you,” Ben said. You looked to the empty pint glass on the table.

“You don’t have to.” You passed him the glass and continued the argument. “Please1 I swear! I wasn’t talking to him!”

“Oh shut up! Kyle says he saw you with him! What were you doing with him last night, huh?!” Ben’s voice raised. From the side of your eye, you caught Jon Snow looking your way. You struggled against Ben’s grip.

“It didn’t mean anything! I love you! You know that, right? I love you!”

“You’re mine, do you hear me? All mine. No one else can have you!” It was Ben’s voice you heard, but it was Petyr’s face you saw. The sudden flash caused you to fall to the ground in a shock. Suddenly, someone’s arm helped you up.

“Stay away from her,” a deep voice said. “You hear me? Stay away from her, scum bag.” You looked up to see Jon Snow’s hands on you protectively. Ben, still in character, laughed in his face.

“You want that whore? Fucking take her then.” Ben kept laughing until one of the security guards came and escorted him out. Ben flashed another look at you before he left. This plan was going smoothly.

You sat next to Jon where he originally was. A new beer was opened right in front of you. 

“Drink this, you’ll feel better,” Jon smiled, drinking his second beer.

“Thank you,” you said, taking a sip of the cold liquid. It created a warmth in your stomach.

“Are you alright?” He asked. You shook your head ‘no’, keeping up with the lie.

“No, I’m-I’m in a lot of trouble,” you explained. “I just keep finding myself with the wrong guy.” You forced the water works on yourself and started to sob. Jon’s hand petted circles on your back.

“He’s gone now, and I’m here. You’re alright.” Jon said. “I hate to see girls like you in situations like that. Did he hurt you? It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“No, he didn’t,” you wiped away the couple tears you made and took another sip from the beer. You glanced outside and crossed your arms.

“Are you cold?” Jon started to take off the plaid sweater he had on, revealing the Henley shirt underneath. He placed it over you and you felt the fleece warm you up fast, along with the smell of Jon. As soon as you sniffed it, you felt safe which reminded you of Ramsay and how he made you feel.

“Thank you. I’m just scared.”

“Scared? Of what? He’s not going to come back here. I promise.”

“No, I don’t have a ride home.” You told him. Jon’s face softened as he came to a slow realization. He reached in his winter jacket for his keys. 

“I can take you home,” Jon said. 

“No, no. I couldn’t let you do that. It’s so far from here,” you pleaded with him. Jon shook his head and smiled.

“Like I said, I don’t like seeing girls like you in situations like this. It worries me. Let me take you home, so I know you’re safe. Do you have a safe place you can go?” You understood why so many girls idolized the Stark boys. They were truly incredibly sweet, and you almost felt bad for lying to him. 

Jon escorted you outside to his truck. You saw a very large and prominent Border Control logo on it. You felt a chill go down your spine and you wondered how Ramsay was doing. You hadn’t heard from him all night long and it started to bother you.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked you. You gave him a half-smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were part of border control,” you lied.

“Oh, yeah. This is my job,” Jon sighed as he roared the truck into life. The tires went over the snow and ice easily. “I’m the Commander.”

“Of the Night’s Watch? You look so young.”

Jon chuckled. “Thank you. They wanted me there, so here I am.”

“Wait, you’re the Stark—

“I am,” Jon finished before you could say ‘bastard’. 

“I’m so sorry. I heard about your family,” you turned off the lying for a moment. “What happened to your mother and your brother, and everyone. I’m so sorry.”  
“Thank you. You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” Jon assured you. “What happened is in the past. All I can do now is hope my sisters and brothers are okay.”

“Your brothers? I thought—

“I know what the headlines say, but I think differently,” Jon said. “I just want to see them all again. I want to hold them all again. Do you know what I mean?” Your head flashed back to Ros and her beautiful red hair. You’d give anything to have your best friend back. You nodded your head.

“I understand,” you said. 

“Where am I taking you?” Jon asked. You had the perfect answer. You plugged the address in his phone.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding. That’s an hour away,” Jon chuckled. 

“I’m sorry. If that’s too far, I can—

“No, no. You’re alright,” Jon settled you. “But I have to ask, what brought you all the way out here? In this weather?”

“I told you. I get caught up in the wrong guys.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Petyr, Mr. Kress, and other clients came to mind. You remembered Mr. Kress dying in front of you and Ramsay being your savior. Ramsay was your savior again when you finally got away from Petyr. “I’ve had a rough life.”

“Me too,” Jon agreed. “Sometimes it’s hard. I can’t sleep at night because of all the demons coming after me.” You didn’t want to imagine Jon’s demons. You could already read the same headlines. Ned Stark assassinated. Red Wedding kills over 50 people. The Stark boys murdered. Sansa and Arya missing from the world.

You remembered your own demons. Your former best friend and her boyfriend being shot in Vegas. Ros screaming to you for help. Petyr’s devilish smile crept into your mind. You couldn’t make him go away. You were still scared of him. 

“Sometimes, those demons are still alive. They’re still walking around,” you confessed to Jon. 

“I know how that feels,” Jon said. “Sometimes all you want to do is gather them all in one room and watch them burn just so you can see their ashes.”

“So you know they’re all dead,” you finished the dark thought with him. 

“I’m sorry to be so glum,” Jon smiled. “It’s going to be okay. All of it. I promise.” Jon patted your hand and continued to drive. It felt good for someone to tell you that it’s going to be okay. You dropped the lying act and spoke to him more.  
“Can I ask a question?” you said. Jon nodded, turning onto the highway.

“Go ahead,” he said as his tires made easy work of the snow under them. 

“What if there’s someone who hates you so much out there that they want to kill you?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jon said. His eyes growing with concern. “Listen, I may be Border Control, but if you’re in trouble—

“No, I’m just scared.” It felt good to finally talk to someone about it. “No matter how much people tell me that I’m safe, he’s still out there.”

“Did he do something to you?” Jon asked. Your mind flashed back to Petyr again. Him holding you against your will. Selling you to Brad. Him putting a gun to your head. You couldn’t tell Jon who it was, but you wanted to.

“I don’t think I can tell you,” you confessed. “There’s a lot going on.”

“I understand,” Jon nodded. “We’ve just met and all. You don’t have to tell me everything.” Jon continued driving down the highway until he made it to an apartment complex just outside a major Northern city. Jon hopped out of the truck and escorted you to the gates. You hugged him tightly. You started to take off the plaid sweater.

“No, no, you keep it,” Jon smiled at you. “It looks great on you.” You curled up in the warm sweater, grateful for a new friend.

“Thank you.”

“And if you need anything,” Jon slipped a piece of paper to you. “Or if you’re in trouble. Call me. I’m not the police, but I can help you, ok? Promise you’ll call if you need help?”

You nodded. “I promise.” Both of you hugged once more before you entered the complex. Of course, you had Ben to talk to, but it felt wonderful to have someone understand you. To know that demons still walked this earth and they wanted to hurt you. You held onto the sweater when you entered the small apartment.

You were greeted with your boyfriend glaring at you in the face. Behind him was security footage of where you and Jon were.

“So, Jon Snow,” Ramsay growled. “Is he your new boyfriend now?”


	10. Never Piss Off A Bolton

“What?” you responded. You saw the anger in his eyes. Something in him switched off. 

“Everyone, get out. Now.” Ramsay commanded. Most men left the room save for Ben and Damon. Ramsay stared daggers at them. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Ben defended you. He stepped in between you both.

“Ben, you don’t have to—

“Shut up, Y/N.” Ben told you. 

“He’s not going to hurt me,” you said defending Ramsay. In turn, Ramsay started laughing.

“Hurt you? Oh hun!” Ramsay looked around the room. A knife turned in his hands. What made it worse was that you had no idea where the knife came from. “You got some fucking explaining to do. And if you give me your shit about being a fucking whore, I’ll cut you up like one too. Just like Joffery did to your friend.”

His words cut just like the knife he turned in his hand. Your mouth hung open as you held yourself. Tears started to form in your eyes. You knew how mean Ramsay was, but this was a new level of low. 

“Ramsay, that’s out of line,” Ben told him.

“You think I give a fuck? She was all over him. I saw it!” Ramsay started screaming. “You gonna fuck him too? Huh? What’s your problem?”

You tried to get a word in. “Ramsay—

“No, no, no,” Ramsay shook his head, twirling the knife in his hand. “Let me at her, Ben.”

“I’m not moving,” Ben said. He stood in place. Ramsay started laughing again.

“Oh, you gonna fuck my girlfriend too? Is that what you want? Is that what you’re doing, Y/N? You want everyone to fuck you? You miss being a whore?”

“Please don’t call me that, Rams,” you said, your voice breaking. 

“I’ll call you what I want! You’re mine! Do you understand that? Mine!”

“Ramsay, you gotta calm the fuck down,” Damon interjected. “Someone here will call the cops and we’ll get fucked, okay? Calm down.”

Ramsay started to pace around the room. His breath shortened and his grip on his personal knife tightened. He made his way towards the kitchen and found a head of lettuce. Ramsay struck his knife through it several times, imagining it was your head. The thought did not go unnoticed by anyone there. 

Ben and Damon stood in their places and watched Ramsay destroy the head of lettuce. Ben nodded at Damon and then turned to you.

“You got everything?”

“Yeah, why?” You said, not taking your eyes off of Ramsay just in case. Ben turned you around and guided you out the door.

“We’re leaving,” Ben ushered you outside. 

“What? W-wait, Ramsay—

“No, we’re going. He won’t calm the fuck down, Y/N.”

“Ben, I have to do something. He’s really mad at me,” you said with tears in your eyes. You tried wiping them away. Ben dragged you to his car.

“No, we’re not arguing about this. You’re coming home with me tonight, ok? You need to stay away from him.” 

“Ben—

“Y/N, we all heard you guys. It’s like you forgot you had a mic on. Ramsay does that for your safety, and here you are talking to another guy about your problems. Trusting him and he’s our enemy.”

“But, I talked to you and—

“That was between us, Y/N. Ramsay heard every single word you two said to each other,” Ben started his car. “I told you that you needed to talk to him.”

“I told you that he wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah, and now look where that got us,” Ben said as he pulled out of the apartment complex. “I’m trying to help you, but I can’t do that if you pull shit like this. I told you that Ramsay cares about you more than you even understand.”

The car ride back to the brewery was in mostly silence save for the soft jazz music that played over the radio. Everything inside of you hurt. You held all of your fears and terrors inside of you. Your demons crept up to you at night and sometimes during the day. How could you even explain that to someone who hasn’t been afraid of death since he was thirteen?   
Truth was, you found comfort in Jon. He wanted to help you and he wanted to listen. Enemy or not, Jon Snow was someone you needed. It felt good to have someone understand you. It felt good to have someone say the same things you were scared of. 

A slow, ugly feeling started to settle in you. You started to think that Ramsay would never even try to understand how you felt. And why would he? Ramsay was invincible. Nothing could touch him now. 

You felt isolated in your world and the moment you reached out, Ramsay wanted to hurt you. You were his, and he meant that. If he was like this when you wanted help, then what would the rest of your future look like? Ramsay loved the dangerous and wild side of you. The parts that were sexy, murderous, and bad. The moment you were vulnerable or weak Ramsay couldn’t understand.

You laid in a different bed from Ramsay’s top floor bedroom. Damon’s bedroom was mostly left unused because he slept with so many other people. Still, it was good use to you. You stretched out on the bed, letting your body take up space and all the comfort you wanted. You felt your phone vibrate.

Damon: [Ben told me you were in my bed. Have fun, darling ;) But I wanted you to know, you did a good job. You distracted Jon enough to help all of those immigrants ass through. Innocent people are safer now because of you. Mance is gonna give us the weapons.]

You smiled to yourself. At the end of the day, the mission was complete. With Border Control distracted and taken down, people were now safer and happier. At least you had that. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the thought of Ramsay’s anger weighed heavier on you. You felt your phone vibrate again. This time, it wasn’t Damon.

Ramsay: [I wuznt gona hurt you]

Ramsay: [I don’t want to]

Ramsay: [Where r u]

Drunk Ramsay was nothing to mess around with, and you hoped that he would make it home okay. As drunk as he was, you wondered if he was still angry.

You: [Are you angry with me?]

Ramsay: [Nooooooooooooo. Where r u. I cant see you in the bar]

You giggled to yourself. Ramsay forgot about all of the arguing already. You wondered how many drinks that took him. 

You: [I’m not at the bar. I’m in the brewery. In Damon’s room.]

Ramsay: [That’s what I said! I’m here! Where r u??????]

You: [I’m upstairs, silly. Damons room.]

Before long, you heard laughing and some shushing outside the door. It seemed like there was more than one person out there.

“She could be sleeping. You gotta shut up!” Damon laughed.

“She’s not sleepin’. She’s waitin’ for me, stupid.”

“Ramsay, come on, let’s take you upstairs.”

“No! She’s here. She told me!”

“You’’re not mad at her?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad with the hottest girl in the world? Fuck you.” Ramsay said, busting into Damon’s room. You wanted to snort with laughter, but you kept quiet and under the covers to see what Ramsay would do. 

He stumbled more into the room and fell to the ground, laughing.

“Ramsay?”

“I fell!” He chuckled. “Where’s Y/N? Oh! There she is. Shhhhhhhh. She’s sleeping. See? I told you she was sleeping, stupid.” Ramsay pulled away the covers as softly as he could and made himself comfortable next to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly. He hummed in your ear as the door closed behind you both.

You didn’t move or budge. You still listened to Ramsay humming a song into your ear until he spoke again. 

“You’re my favorite person. I like fucking you and kissing you and fucking you more,” Ramsay rambled on. “I could fuck you right now if I wanted to. But I wont. Youre sleeping.” 

Ramsay yawned and curled up into you more, speaking his last words to you.

“I love my girl. I’ll always love my girl.”

The next morning you didn’t wake up in Damon’s bed, but in Ramsay’s bed on the top floor without Ramsay. You looked around, but you knew very well that you wouldn’t find answers to your questions here. 

Wrapping yourself in a shawl, you made your way down to find a hungover Ramsay nursing himself back to normal. Your hand reached out to him until he caught your wrist.  
“Don’t bother me. I’m not in the mood,” Ramsay said. “Just go away.”

“Ramsay?”

“I told you to go away,” Ramsay repeated himself. Feeling rejected, you took Bacon and Eggs out for a walk. This time, Damon accompanied you.

“What happened?” you asked. 

“I’m not so sure myself. Ramsay’s always been difficult to handle,” Damon explained. His cigarette smoke blew in the wind. “He loves you that’s for sure.”

“I don’t even know about that anymore.”

“Well you heard drunk Ramsay last night. ‘Why would I be mad at the most hottest girl in the world?’ He cares. Just in his own way.”

“Did this happen to the other girl?” you posed the question like it was a loaded gun. The answer could fire you off at any moment. 

“No,” Damon assured you. “That I know for sure. Ramsay didn’t care about Beth the way he cares about you. Have you ever fallen in love before?”

“No,” you told Damon. It was the truth. “I signed a contract with Petyr when I started working for him. I wouldn’t get attached or romantically linked to anyone.”

“And before then?” Damon asked.

“I joined Petyr when I was 18 years old.”

“People can still fall in love before they’re 18,” Damon stopped in his tracks. You started to sink from the slushy mud beneath your boots. Damon’s cigarette smoke blew out of his mouth. “You know, we don’t know much about you. Ramsay told us all he could. Your last name. What you did for a living, but I don’t think he knows everything about you. Just like you don’t know everything about him.”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked. Your grip on Bacon’s leash grew tighter.

“I think you’re hiding something,” Damon said point blank. “Something you don’t want Ramsay to know.”

“That’s stupid,” you reacted, walking away from Damon. Eggs followed you on her own accord. Damon called out to you from behind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Come on!” He started to rush after you. “It’s the truth ok? No one here knows that much about you. Can you blame us for being distrustful?”  
You ended back up in your room again. The top floor had views you could look out to, but not much was there. Just dirty forest with muddy forest grounds. All of the leaves had fallen to leave their trees bare and begging for some kind of beauty. 

You continued to look out, but your mind left. It travelled to the past when you were a child. A tenth birthday cake was laid right in front of you. Candles were lit as your friends and family sang a big ol’ happy birthday to you song. You laughed at all of the happy company you had.

There was your grandmother who had gifted you a beautiful porcelain doll that year. There was your Uncle who took pictures of you and the cake on his expensive camera. Your best friends Lilly and Rebecca were there. Each of them wore matching party hats just like you. 

It wasn’t until you looked to the right of you. You wished you didn’t see it. 

“We need to talk,” Ramsay snapped you out of the memory. The door slammed behind him. He may have jarred you out of your head, but you didn’t give him the courtesy of even looking at him.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“You don’t get to ask me ‘what do you want’.”

“And you wonder why I don’t share things with you,” you snapped. “Do all the Red Kings mistrust me?”

“Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Damon told me. No one here knows anything about me. Is that why people are scared of me?”

“That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Then what are we talking about?” you yelled at Ramsay. You took a look at his eyes. Redness surrounded them as if he had been crying. Yet, he stood there before you as angry as ever.

“What happened?” Ramsay asked. You sat down on the bed. 

“Ramsay, you wouldn’t understand—

“Yeah? Try me.” 

An uncomfortable silence took over the room like a fog. It floated and settled in between you both as if you both had ghosts haunting and following you. Maybe Charlotte was right about this relationship. If you let this keep going, it could be the end of you.


	11. No Man's Land

You took a long, exhausted sigh. You suddenly understood why Petyr forbid any of you to be in relationships. This was hard. This wasn’t fun anymore.

“Y/N?” Ramsay’s voice rose.

“The more you raise your voice at me, the less I’ll speak,” you simply said. Red flushed Ramsay’s face.

“No. No, you’re wrong. I can get you to talk. Any way I can,” he said.

“So, you’ll hurt me? Is that how you’re going to solve this? More violence? So you can feel powerful and big? Because I made you feel small and worthless? Is that it?”

“Don’t. Test. Me.” 

Ramsay started to pace around the room. His fingers itched to hit something. His nostrils snarled. You could only imagine what Ramsay thought of in his head. You have never seen him this upset before at least not with you. If being under Petyr’s protection taught you anything, it taught you to sit still and take whatever was handed to you. If the Red Kings taught you anything it was you took whatever you wanted, fuck everyone else.

But this? You had no idea what to do about this. A rush of emotions broke you down. You felt your heart beating faster than you could take note of. Your skin crawled when you thought of Petyr again. He was going to hurt you. It didn’t matter if you were a Red King. Petyr was going to kill you.

Your fingers weaved themselves in your hair. Painful cries left your body. The sobs were so hard that you made no noise but hard breathing.

“What happened, Y/N?” Ramsay shouted. “Why did you do that? Huh? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Why are you yelling at me?” you shouted back. Your tears streaming down your face. “Look at me! Fucking look at me!” You shrieked. It hurt to look at Ramsay. You fell in love with someone as awful as Petyr. Things started to be clearer now. 

“You know what I see? A crying whore.”

“Ramsay—

“Y/N,” Ramsay mocked you. “You can’t stop, can you? You fucked the world, but that’s even enough for you, is it? No, you want to spread your legs across the entire north.”

“It wasn’t like that,” your voice broke.   
“Then what was it, then?” Ramsay tucked his finger under your chin. His intense stare grew blurrier. 

“I needed someone,” you tried explaining to him. “Don’t you understand that? The need to have someone?”

“I do!” Ramsay screamed at you. “I do fucking understand that concept. Do you think I stayed in New York for their hot dogs? Do you think I risked everything, including my life, for what? Money? You betrayed my trust.”

“I talked to him. That’s all I did.”

“You bared your soul to him. You touched him,” Ramsay’s face twisted in disgust. “You looked at him like he could save you from everything. You’ve never looked at me like that.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. The weight of it all hurt.

“He listened to me. He made me feel—

“Feel what? Loved?—

“Understood,” you spat back at him. You stood up, backing Ramsay away from you. “I am scared. I am frightened. Petyr is still out there, alive and breathing. He has his underbelly at work. Who knows where his spies are? Who knows if they’re here watching me? Waiting for me? Petyr is coming for me. He is coming for you. I can’t sleep anymore. I can’t stop thinking about it. When I do sleep, I wake up in a sweat because Petyr killed me in a nightmare again. 

“But, no. I wanted to fuck Jon. That’s all you take away from it. This whole damned hotel is filled with nothing but idiots who aren’t afraid to die. Even so, they don’t even trust me. I feel like I have enemies everywhere and you don’t even care. ‘My girlfriend has killed people. You can’t fuck with her!’ Your boys could kill me. Your whole crew could kill us. 

“Does any of this occur to you? Do you even think of the consequences? Jon Snow listened to me and gave me something you never did. Empathy. He made me feel like I was right to be afraid. He made me feel like it was okay to feel them. I don’t want to fuck Jon Snow. I don’t need to spread my legs across the north. I need you. I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” Ramsay said in a low voice. You cried out another sob and embraced Ramsay. He did not hug you back, and kept his arms at his sides.

“I’m scared.” You hoped he would understand two words. 

“Why should I care?” Ramsay’s words cut you.

“Because you love me,” you reminded him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Ramsay said. A punch to the gut.  
“W-what do you mean? You love me,” you said, looking him in the eye. Ramsay didn’t flinch.

“You betrayed me,” he spat. 

“How? Did I kiss him? Did I fuck him? No! How did I betray you?” You stood up now, facing Ramsay head on. “You still call me a whore. Even when the only man I ever wanted in a year was you.”

Ramsay shook his head and started to pace off. You still stood in place, holding your ground now more than ever. This hurt too much. You could feel a ghost of a headache creeping into your head. You watched Ramsay drag out a bag into the middle of the floor. He started to pull out drawers with your belongings inside, umping them onto the bag, not even packing them inside.

“What are you doing?” you shouted.

“You’re leaving,” Ramsay told you.

“What?”

“I fucking said you are leaving, Y/N,” Ramsay dumped another pile of your belongings onto the middle of the floor. He threw the drawer and headed to the bathroom.

“You’re kicking me out? For talking to another guy?”

“You bared yourself to the enemy!” Ramsay stormed out of the bathroom to face you. “You told him things that you couldn’t even tell me. You’re sitting here and telling me that you trust our enemy more than you trust me.”

“I—

“No, you’re gone, Y/N,” Ramsay dumped your toiletries on top. “You have ten minutes. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll make you disappear myself.”

“Ramsay—

“Fuck off,” Ramsay stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You felt hot tears stream down your face. You tried to hold it together as you quickly packed your things into the bag. You couldn’t fit everything inside, but you had to run. The Red Kings would no longer protect you now. 

You rushed down the stairs into the hallway. You started to hear laughter and curse words galore. No, you couldn’t face them all like this. You were an outcast now. Turning your heel, you sped towards the back exit. The wintry light blinded you from seeing a friend in front of you.

“Get in the car,” Ben told you. He ushered you forward into someone else’s car. You headed to the passenger’s side until ben stopped you. “No, you have to leave by yourself.”  
“What? I don’t have anywhere to go,” you explained. Ben handed you an envelope of cash with an address on it.

“Go there. Tell no one. Understand me?” Ben pushed you into the car. You started it hearing the familiar roar of a tricked out engine.

“Ben, what’s happening?” you cried to him. He squeezed your shoulder.

“I heard your argument with Ramsay. You have to go. Now. Please?” Ben begged you. 

“I’m so scared!”

“Just go. Please. Go to the address. I promise you’ll be safe, ok?” Ben looked behind him. You took your chance. He wasn’t fucking around with you. You sped off onto the road with cash and an address. After driving for twenty minutes, you pulled over at the edge of town. You rolled up all of the windows and screamed. You hit the steering wheel with your fists. 

This couldn’t be happening. Your fears were slowly becoming real. Ramsay had abandoned you and earned you even more enemies. What if Charlotte was sent to hunt you down? No. You needed to think rationally. Charlotte would never do that to you. 

You took out your phone and plugged the address in. Luckily for you, you owned your phone. Not Petyr. Not Ramsay. You. It was the one thing you called your own. Your Waze App showed the most direct route to the address in Montana. You set off in your course along the northern part of America, listening to 80’s hits on the radio. 

It had nearly been midnight when you arrived at the address. It was a large property with acres of land stretching out into the night. A handmade fence bordered the land and a dirt path lead to a farmhouse complete with a wraparound porch. All of the lights were still on. 

You approached the household by yourself. Your things and money still sat in the car. Ben told you this was a safe place for you to go, but something in your gut told you a different story. You heard a football game being played in the living room. The smell of baked cookies reached your nose.

You raised your hand to knock on the door and retracted it. What if Ben led you to the lion’s den? What if this was a trap?

No.

You had enough of your own anxiety. Ben was your friend. He wouldn’t rush you out of there if he didn’t want you safe. You took a deep breath in and knocked on the door loudly. If you were not welcome here, you knew where the gun was in the car.

You saw movement in the windows and eventually someone opened the front door. Emotions rushed over you when you took in the older man’s familiar face.

“Dad?”


	12. New Friends and Old Friends

Out of all the places Ben could have sent you, he sent you here. To a house you have never seen before. To your own father. You watched your father’s face turn white from the shock. He grabbed onto the door to steady himself and cleared his throat.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked. 

“It’s me, yeah.” You nodded your head. Your vision blurred from the tears that fell down your face. Strong arms pulled you in and hugged you tight. Relief and security washed over you as you buried yourself in your father’s chest. It had been too long. You thought nothing of it before, but now you felt too many emotions at once.

Guilt. Sadness. Anger. Confusion. Love. Curiosity. Anxiety. They came in waves and washed you ashore. You weren’t drowning in the Red Kings’ ocean anymore. You were safe in No Man’s Land with your father. 

He pulled you inside from the cold and dark night. Inside, you saw a normal home. Television played late night news in the background of the living room. The dining room was covered in notes, old mail, and an unfinished game of chess. The kitchen’s lights turned on when your father stepped into it.

“Coffee. Do you want me to make you some coffee? Do you drink coffee?” he asked you. You nodded with enthusiasm as you wiped the tears from your face. He took another look at you, walked over to you, kissed your head, and walked back to the kitchen. You didn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen you in years.

A warm mug filled with cream, sugar, and local coffee tingled your hands. You took a long sip from it and faced your father. He had wrinkles in new places that you didn’t remember. Still the same old glasses. Still the same old white socks with a hole by the pinky toe. Both of you sat in silence waiting for the other to say something.

“How did you get here?” he asked you. You took a long and slow breath. Your story was first. 

“I’m not sure how honest you want me to be with that,” you told him.

“Tell me,” he said. “You have no idea how many nights of sleep I’ve lost over you. I missed you. What happened?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you the obvious. Why I ran away,” you confessed. “Why I up and left you guys.”

“No,” your father shook his head in shame. “I know why. Where did you go?”

“I went to L.A. and then Vegas. And then New York. I went to a lot of places,” you explained. “Me and Kelly ran off to L.A. We got stupid jobs and then we—  
You swallowed hard. The memories were so long ago now. Four years could be a long time to some, but it still seemed so short to you. You remembered the wallpaper in that room. You remembered how unbothered Kelly was. You could hear Hugo’s voice speaking a different language. You remembered the gun that pointed at Kelly first.

Then you remembered Petyr’s hand reaching out to you. Saving you. How time flies.

“Go on,” your father leaned forward. “What happened in L.A.?”

“No, I-we went to Vegas. Kelly had a boyfriend named Hugo. He pimped us out to his friends and his people. Hugo took us into a room where a bunch of mob men played a secret poker game. Half of the room was filled with cigar smoke. All of them were really unhappy with him. So, they pulled out a gun and they—

Your voice trailed off. You bit your lip down hard. 

“So, that’s what happened, hm?” your father said. “I remember Kelly’s body coming home to her parents. Your mother and I still lived next to them. We went to the funeral, but they never spoke of what happened. I always thought she overdosed from drugs. Murder. That’s…rough.”

You nodded your head and kept going. “I met a man. A powerful man that night. His name was Petyr Baelish. He took me in and made me his favorite.”

“Favorite? His mistress?” 

“No, Petyr ran an escort business. We were called his pretty birds, and I was one of the favorites.”

Your father sat back. His hands ran down his face, digesting the story you told him. Most fathers would berate or punish their daughters for doing sex work. Your father closed his eyes and exhaled. The chair creaked when he left the seat and turned around. He reached for two glasses and an unopened bottle of whisky. He and poured the amber liquid into a glass in front of you and double for himself.

“Sex work. Gangs. Did you ever get arrested?”

“No.” you shook your head. “I was always careful. Petyr had the police in his pocket.”

“And how did you get here? Are you in trouble?”

You sighed. The weight of your story here got heavier with every question he asked. You looked away from him, contemplating what to say.

“Tell me, Y/N. I can protect you. I can help you. Let me help.”

“Dad, it’s not that simple. I got involved with the wrong kind of people.”  
“Yeah? Tell me who they are. I can take care of it.”

“No, no. Dad, you don’t understand. These people are fucking awful. They kill people every day. They don’t deal in drugs. They’re not a mob. They are assassins, Dad. If you go after them, you’re done.”

“Tell me who they are,” your father slowly blinked, completely unbothered by what you told him.

“Did you just hear anything I said?”

“I did. I am telling you that I can take care of it.”

You squinted at your father and scoffed. You huffed and stood up from the chair. You lifted your shirt and pointed to your left side. A large black tattoo peeked from your jeans. 

“I’m one of them! They’re called the Red Kings. They are the underbelly’s assassins. They-they killed the Starks. That rich family? The ones who ran Winterfell Inc? They were responsible for the Red Wedding, Dad. You can’t fuck with these people!” You yelled at him. You felt tears tug at your eyes. One of them escaped down your cheek. 

The chair creaked again as your father sat back. He made his amber liquid disappear and poured himself some more spirits. He started to laugh, but then he closed his mouth. He shook his head and looked back at you, smiling.

“You think this is funny?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t. You’ve been through a lot in the past five years since I’ve seen you. I’m sorry. I think it’s time I explain a couple of things to you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you threw your arms in the air.

“Like how I knew your mother had been cheating on me since you were young,” your father chuckled. You felt yourself sink back into your seat, feeling dread creeping into your toes. 

“You knew? You knew all long?”

Your mind flashed back to your tenth birthday. Lilly’s terrible singing voice shouted louder than everyone’s. Your Uncle took pictures of you with his expensive camera. You blew on your candles and wished your father was there. 

It wasn’t until you looked to the right of you. You wished you didn’t see it.

Your mother’s arms were wrapped around another man’s. His mouth was on hers. They buried themselves into one another right in the next room. It seemed like you were the only one who saw. Then again, you knew adults to be deceitful maybe your Uncle ignored what was happening. The sight of it shocked you to the core, and your father told you that he knew. He knew all of this time.

“I did. Your mother and I didn’t get along too well. We tried hiding it from you, but…that didn’t work out now, did it?”

“You can’t be serious right now. How could you? How could you know and not do anything about it?”

“It was for the best. I caught her before we had you. After you, things changed.”

“What-I-what?” you reacted. “What else are you hiding from me?”

“Y/N, calm down.”

“No! What else are you hiding? Do you know how much that fucked me up? You go away on business trips all of the time. Mom brought over all of her boyfriends. One of them looked at me weird. And they would fuck. Mom always bought me shit to keep quiet. And here you are! You already knew! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

“Oh now, it’s not that simple. It was simple when I told you that I’m on the run from assassins, but now it’s not simple because you knew Mom was fucking other guys.”

Your father sighed and finished his second drink. It reminded you of your own You tossed it back and felt the burn in your throat. Fuck. Of all the shit your father hid from you, this one fucking hurt. You wanted to lose it.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“Too much,” your father confessed. A long sigh left his mouth as he looked down. It was his turn to be ashamed. “We hid too much from you. I kept telling your mother that. You were always a little too clever like me. What do you want to know?”

“Did you cheat on mom too? All of those business trips?”

“No. Never once,” your father shifted in his seat. “I loved your mother, but I also loved my job. Things changed when you came along. I wanted to be a real father. I wanted to be here as much as I could.”

“And yet, you were away so damn much.”

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice? That sounds like bullshit.”  
“I know it does, but I need you to believe me,” your father pleaded with you. He ran his hand through his long hair. “I’ve lied to you about what I do for a living. I’m not a business man.”

“Oh?” you reacted, not at all surprised. Your father stood up and started to head towards the stairs. You followed him up as he spoke.

“When your mother and I started getting serious, she made me promise that I had to leave my past life. I wanted a family, but I wanted to keep my job. I love my job. Your mother didn’t think it would be safe for me to continue. So, we made a deal. I could keep my job, but I was to leave you out of it. I went on ‘business trips’ for my job, but that’s all I could tell you. That’s all I wanted to tell you. You got older, and I wanted to shelter you away from everything terrible in this world. I love you so much, and then that night happened.

“You came in from a party drunk out of your mind. I knew why. You were bored. School was too easy for you. You never made any friends except for next door Kelly. Small town life wasn’t for you. You needed more. I understood that, but your mother didn’t. You both screamed at each other for hours. I thought the police were going to get called, but then you left. You packed what you wanted and you left.”

“You didn’t stop me,” you said, tears tugging at your eyes. Both of you stopped in front of a room. The closed door had three locks on it.

“No, I didn’t. You were too clever for that place. You needed to see and experience the world on your own without your mother breathing down your back. That’s why we divorced four months after you left.”

You looked around. Of course, mom wasn’t here. The house was too still. No one was nagging. 

“She fucked off and is probably travelling Europe with a fuck toy. I stayed here, moved North into this homestead. Figured no one from my family would bother me here. I’ve been here for a year and nothing’s happened until you knocked this evening. So, how did you find me?”

“I told you I was a part of the Red Kings. I got into trouble with them. My friend put me in a car with a lot of cash and gave me this address. I didn’t know what would be here. He only told me that this was a safe place for me.”

“Which friend?” your father asked.

“You wouldn’t know him.”

“Try me.”

You chuckled at your father’s stubborn attitude. He would say that about every boy you were interested in. He would know their name, their parents, where he lived, etc. You shook your head again. “I told you. You wouldn’t know him. He’s an assassin.”

Your father sighed and pulled up the left side of his shirt. You saw the same black ‘X’ tattoo in the same placement as yours. You felt your whole body freeze and your mind go numb. Words could not express how you felt.

“I told you, kiddo. I’m not a business man like you thought I was. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve introduced you to the family business like most fathers did. I’m a Red King just like you. Now you know.”

You sat down with your eyes wide. Everything made sense. The frequent ‘business trips’ your father took. The secretive lies your family had to tell everyone. Why your family lived in a small town and you grew up knowing nothing about the world. And now here you were, the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.

“How? What?”

“I was a lot like you when I was younger,” your father started. “I was bored. I was too damn clever. I made friends with the wrong kind of people because I was the wrong kind of person. I joined the Red Kings knowing what exactly we were: assassins. I doubt you’ve met him in person, but Roose Bolton, the head of the Red Kings, is my best friend.”

“Roose Bolton is your best friend?”

Your father nodded and laughed. “I was one of the first Red Kings. I liked what I did a lot. He gave me all of the best assignments. He was saddened that I didn’t want you to be a part of it all. But, the boys and I had a great time. We still do.” Your father pulled out a photo album from the mess on the table. Inside, your mother complied all of the pictures she had before you were born. You saw young Roose and your father standing side by side with beers in hand. You couldn’t see their Red King tattoos, but you saw how happy they both were. You’d never seen Roose smiling now like he did in that picture. 

In the corner, you spotted a handwritten note: Bolton and Locke. 1970s. Whore’s Foot. New Years Eve.

“Do you and Roose still talk?” You stared at the picture, not sure what was real and what was a lie. 

“Yes, I’m still an active member. I know what’s going on. Damn Stannis is breathing down our backs. That’s partially why I’m here. Laying low was the best option for all of us old goats. Do you believe me now? About everything?”

You nodded your head and turned away from the photo album. You look around the room, trying to connect your thoughts into what you could say next. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I had planned to, but you ran off before I was ready to tell you,” your father laughed. “And I see karma slapped me in the face for it. How did you join? Did Petyr Baelish introduce you to the Red Kings?”

“He did, actually.” You started. “They came to us after the Red Wedding. I met Roose and all. Then, I fell in love with a Red King. It was wild and fun for a while until now. Everything’s gone to shit.”

“And the Red King? Did he fuck up?”

“No, I did. I messed up and he threw me out. He threatened me.” You said. Your father’s knuckles cracked. Your saw his shoulders tense up and his nostrils flared. 

“Threatened you? How? Who is he?”

You swallowed hard. “Dad, I-I’m not sure if you want to know. I mean, you said Roose was your best friend and—

“Stop dodging the question. Which Red king threatened you? Who threw you out into the cold?”

“Ramsay Bolton,” you confessed. “I’m in love with Ramsay Bolton. We’ve been dating for about a year, but I think its over now, He doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Ramsay? Roose’s youngest son, Ramsay Bolton?” His voice lowered to a growl. His fists clenched at his sides. “I taught that boy everything he knows. I put a gun in his hand. Now, I’m gonna put one to his fucking head.”


	13. There's No Mercy in the Underbelly

You sat quiet in your father’s truck as he drove through the countryside. A soft male country voice crooned about his blues on the radio. You glanced over to him. His brow was furrowed. His eyes were wide awake due to the three coffees he drank back to back at 5am this morning. You opened your mouth and really thought about what you said.

“Dad, could you please tell me where we are going?”

“I’m going to strangle that boy. I’m going to take his damned snotty face and punch it in,” he said. “I teach him everything I know and this is how that little shit repays me?”

“Dad,” you wanted to explain. You’ve kept your family and personal life secret from everyone. You wanted to move on without your parents. Things were different now. A long, frustrated sigh expelled from your being. You felt a stress headache forming and rubbed your temples.

You took out your phone. You had no say in what was going to happen, but maybe you could at least warn somebody.

You: [Ben, what the fuck?]

In no time at all, your phone dinged.

Ben: [Okay. So you’re safe?]

You: [I am. Why did you send me to my father’s house???]

Ben: [ LOCKE IS YOUR FATHER????]

You sighed again in frustration.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

“I’m having a long life, dad.”

“You’re telling me. My ex-wife has been cheating on me for years. My daughter is a prostitute—

“Was.”

“My daughter was a prostitute. Now I gotta knock some fuckin' sense in my best student.”

“He was your best student?” Locke’s smile was humble at most, but you could tell he wanted to burst with stories. So did you. You sent one more text Ben’s way.

You: [Look I don’t have the time to explain my shit to you. Locke found out about me and rams. He’s coming. I think. I don’t know where we’re going. Warn Rams.]

<\----->

Ben held his cell in his hands with wide, bulging eyes. He wanted to scream. He wanted to panic. This was not good.

“Why the fuck do you look like that?” Ramsay asked. A cold beer touched his lips. 

“What?’ Ben reacted.

“Did you get a girl pregnant or what? Why the fuck does your face look like that?”

Ben contemplated his friendship with Ramsay. He remembered meeting him. He remembered how Ramsay would cut people who annoyed him. Ben also remembered that Ramsay killed people over Y/N’s rape. Ramsay waved a gun in Yellow’s face and he was only the messenger.

Ramsay waited for an answer. He had to say something.

“Nailed It. Have you heard of a Netflix show called Nailed It?”

“No, why?”

“The bakers are on the show do such a bad job at baking and—

“They bake badly on purpose?” Ramsay said.

“No, they just—

“Never mind. I’m bored with you,” Ramsay moved on. Mance’s generous donation of weaponry stocked several the once-hotel rooms in the brewery. Guns, ammo, and everything else a psychotic boy would need to take down a branch of a government. It was time for his next move.

All was quiet from his father and his brother. Either that, or they were hiding things from him. What he did know was that he was acting alone. Ramsay wasn’t like his father or his brother. He was himself. He did things his way, but as Ramsay looked around at his men who drank beer and fucked penny-whores, he realized something.

He needed allies. He needed a better plan. He needed Y/N. 

No. He shook his head. He didn’t need Y/N. Whatever they had was over now. He’s sent her away. Wherever she was didn’t matter. He looked up to see one of the female Red Kings having trouble loading a gun. She tried opening the chambers, but it seemed stuck. He stepped towards her, only to feel a sickness grow inside his belly.

A voice in his head. ‘Don’t.’

He grunted and stepped towards her anyways until Yellow stopped him in his tracks.

“I just talked with some spies. Your brother’s taking missions?”

“Y/N told me. Why? Is it more important than—

Ramsay nodded towards the girl who still had trouble loading the gun. Yellow looked back at him with disgust.

“It’s been less than a fucking day,” Yellow said. “You’re moving on that fast, huh? Y/N meant nothing to you?”

“You don’t get to sit here and put words in my mouth.”

“Why did you break up with her and send her away? What happened?”

“I’m not talking about it.”

“You waved a gun in my fucking face! I told you. No, I showed you a video of her rape and you killed a bunch of poor fuckers that day. Some of them were our men! You tore the whole place apart and ruined your dad’s plans for her. Now, you’re gonna go fuck my cousin because your cock is lonely?”

Ramsay stepped close to Yellow. His presence overpowered him. His quiet rage had been disturbed, and Ramsay had kept his residual break-up anger inside. 

“Ramsay. We gotta talk,” Ben said behind both of them. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Do you have an opinion on my ex-girlfriend? If I remember correctly, you were suspicious of her.” Ramsay never looked away from Yellow. His fingers hovered over a knife in his pocket. He could take out both of them right now just to shut them up. 

“A lot of us were. We were right to. She’s Petyr’s girl,” Yellow explained. “Turns out, Charlotte is in Vegas right now. She’s posing as another bird again.”

“And? Why should we care?”

“Petyr has Sansa Stark and—

“We’re going after Stannis, dipshit. I don’t care what an old man wants with a pretty girl. I know that business. My ex is from that business. I saw her clients. I killed some of them. What’s your point?” 

Yellow took a breath before saying his next words. “Stannis Baratheon is going after everyone. Not just us. Charlotte and your brother have reported that prostitution houses, mobs, gangs in Chicago, everybody had bugs hidden in their headquarters.”

Ramsay sighed, thinking to himself. “Everyone wants to be careful. That’s why Mance was so hesitant. No one wants to end up in federal jail forever. Stannis has the entire underbelly in his hands and for fucking what? Why?”

<\---->

Stannis Baratheon sat in the comfy chair again. He liked the calming colors in Dr. Melisandre’s office. He felt completely relaxed in her presence.

“Tell me about your daughter,” she smiled. “You mentioned her before, but you don’t talk about her. Is she estranged?”

“No,” Stannis shook his head and chuckled. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it? Why?”

“I’m ashamed of her.” He said it out loud. He shut his mouth immediately. He put his head in his hands and grunted. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. Mel touched the cross on her chest. “Our Lord still loves you. That’s what makes his love so fulfilling. He loves us despite our flaws and our sins. He loves us despite what we do, and he forgives us.”

“Does he? He’s sent his living son to die for us, and I can’t even look my own daughter in the face.”

“And why is that? Has she done something wrong?”

“No, she’s only a little girl. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s sick. In and out of hospitals a lot. My wife and I made a weak child. She and I have had several miscarriages before. She blames herself. She’s apologized to me hundreds of times. Claims she’s not strong enough to give me a son.”

“Ah,” Dr. Mel said. “You wanted a son. We always want what we can’t have. We never take the time to count our blessings until its too late.” Stannis looked at her cross necklace again, and the bosom underneath. 

“What do you suggest I do? Count my blessings?”

“Exactly. Spend time with your family. Experience the world around you.”

“But what if this world is filled with nothing but filth?”

“I understand that what you do for a living is difficult and you deal with difficult people. But, I remind you that the world is also filled with beauty and more.” Stannis scoffed. The last beauty he saw in this world was one of Petyr Baelish’s establishments. Nothing but beautiful girls laughing, talking, and spying for him. Last he heard, the Red Kings were there in New York.

And that Domeric Bolton controlled the list.

Stannis couldn’t prevent the Red Wedding from happening, but if he got his hands on that list. The kill list. Then maybe, he could save countless lives and finally be recognized as a hero. Not just some man who works too hard because he hates his family.

<\---->

He wanted that damn list. He needed Domeric Bolton. Fuck counting blessings. He won’t count them until he can count the lives he’s saving.

Charlotte played with her pretty white-blonde hair. Her blue contacts and new boob job made her look like the prettiest bird in the cage. She smiled at Dom when he handed her a glass of wine.

“This is nice,” she commented. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Domeric sighed. His body relaxing into their couch. “I just miss you. That’s all.” Charlotte stretched her legs across Domeric’s lap. He rested his hand on her ankles. 

“I know,” she pouted. “I didn’t want to be a bird again.”

“I know. It’s not your fault. It’s Ramsay’s.”

“What do you mean? What’s your little brother got to do with this?”

“If he had laid low, he would’ve been here. Y/N would be the one pretending to be a pretty bird. Not you.”

“Why are you and your dad surprised anyways? Ramsay has always been Ramsay.” 

Domeric sighed. “You’re right, but—

“But what? You think Ramsay’s going to be reasonable one day? You think he’ll just wake up and follow the rules?”

“I love him, ok?” Domeric said defensively. “I remember when he was born. I was so happy. I was so excited to be a big brother. All I wanted to do was play with him. And you know what Ramsay did? He stuck to my side. Always. We never went anywhere without the other. I remember our first assassination together. It was some fucking Lannister shithead. And we took him out together.

“I never felt so alive. When he dropped, Ramsay and I looked at each other and laughed. We just killed a dude together. You think I like fighting with him? No. I love him. That’s what hurts. I love Ramsay. I know what he is. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

“So why aren’t you doing anything about it? Why not just stop him?”

“Do you remember the last time I tried to stop him?” Domeric glared at Charlotte, pushing her feet off. He stood up and over her. “Y/N almost died that night. You were sobbing over the phone. ‘Ramsay’s got her in his car. She got shot! You have to stop him! He can’t do this to her.’ Remember that?”

Charlotte stood up, matching his anger and tone in every way.

“You have no fucking idea how terrifying your sweet, little brother is. Do you know how Y/N and Ramsay got together in the first place? He stalked her. He endlessly stalked her until she gave in. Then after that bullshit, he waves the list around Petyr’s head to get control. He killed her clients to have her to himself. And that’s what happened.

“Mr. Kress put a bullet in her because Ramsay was so obsessed. She did almost die that night. I remember Ramsay and his gang of bastards coming to me that night. All the other night nurses and me saved her that night. And you know what I did after that?”

“What?” Domeric spat.

“I told Ramsay to fuck off and I returned her body to Petyr Baelish where she was safe. You know what Ramsay did?”

“You’re going to tell me anyways so just say it.”

“Your little brother put his hands around my neck and he told me he was going to kill me for separating them.”

“And that’s when you wanted to stop him?”

“No. That’s not the point. My point is that your precious baby brother is going to kill everyone around him and then himself. If you and your father sit there and do nothing, Ramsay will die. The Bastard’s Boys. Y/N. Your dad. You. Me. All of the Red kings.”

“Shut up, Char.”

“No! Roose knows Ramsay’s talked to Mance! A bunch of weird shit at the border? Come on! Wake up!”

“Char, don’t.”

“You need to stop him or—

“Or what?” Domeric slammed his glass down. Drops of wine stained the carpet. “He’s my little brother, Charlotte. I lost mom. I can’t lose Ramsay.” 

Charlotte shook her head slowly and threw down a handwritten note. She stormed off deeper into the house, leaving the note for Domeric. He picked up the piece of paper and read it to himself.

_Char, I did as you asked. Don’t fuck me over. – Ben Bones_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different than what I originally planned, but I really worked hard on it. What do you guys think?

**Author's Note:**

> If you love this, want to talk to me, or see my other works with Ramsay and others, please visit [ https://crowkingwrites.tumblr.com/ ] I love hearing any and all kind of feedback.


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